


Szajha

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cissexism, FanFiction.Net, M/M, Multi, Rewrite, Transphobia, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-04-25 14:52:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4964974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A Debutante is the epitome of intellect, culture, etiquette, sexuality, and beauty...We are the centerpieces of empires.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so back in 2004 a beautiful writer by the name of Calliope wrote a fanfiction for Harry Potter named "Szajha". It's beautiful and lovely, but she abandoned the work, and it's been sitting on chapter 8 for the last eleven years. I'm sure there are people that love it as much as I, and I just want to bring this beautiful piece back to life. 
> 
> I have changed some things such as some parts of the backstory, the point of view and some of the headcanons around the character ( for example, a lot more of the characters are PoC and I have used Black Indian Harry and Pakistani Severus ), and have tweaked it to be more in character. I'm going to link back to the original fic so you can see the beautiful work I'm pulling from!
> 
> Feel free to leave comments and a kudos! Every little bit is an encouragement.
> 
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/799586/1/Szajha#

Harry Potter sat with the rest of his peers in the foyer leading to the Great Hall. He, like them, was a mess of bones and sour smells. The boy isolated himself from the others, back turned to the sea of children and quiet among the sobs and scattered chatter. He has no more sorrow in him. Harry felt, for once, blank. There is no feeling of fear, or danger, or a horrible ending. He knew the ending for he has seen it many times. He knew they were waiting for death, but he was unafraid.

Behind him was a deconstruction of the houses. The end of the war has eradicated a need for sorting. Gryffindors tuck themselves with Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs find solace with Slytherins. A collection of personality traits mean nothing. When you raise your wand to fight beside someone, your house falls away.

The doors of the Great Hall open and the foyer fell silent. Harry turned his head to see the cause of the sudden hush. It’s Lucius Malfoy. Harry saw the wear of the war on him. It’s obvious that Malfoy has been scrubbed, brushed and primped, but there was a hollowness to it all. Lucius kept his nose up as if trying to avoid the smell of piss and shit. Harry would laugh if he wasn’t so damn weak. He was not convinced by the high cheeks and delicate, almost feminine grace the older wizard tried to exude. All the primping in the world can’t hide a broken spirit.

Harry kept his ears perked, but his back turned as Lucius begins to speak. “The time of judgement for you all is near.” He cleared his throat, eyes on Harry as he continued. “You will enter the Great Hall and bow before our Master, Lord Voldemort. There, you will all receive your sentence.”

A murmur broke out among them all. Harry thought he heard Ron’s voice protest against bowing. It brought a smile to his face, but it didn’t last long. Just as the murmurs built, the doors of the Great Hall are pushed all the way open, revealing the familiar sight to the students. There’s a brief period of reflection among them all. They remember being innocent, sitting with caps on their heads as they awaited their sorting. They remember a childhood.

The spell over them broke as Lucius’s tones urge them to step inside. “Quickly, quickly. The Dark Lord waits for none.”

Most rise, slowly making their ways to the Great Hall. Harry waited for a moment, lingering so that he can walk in with his friends. With Ron on his right, and Hermione on his left, Harry felt even calmer. He will walk to death, or from it, accompanied by the two people that knew him best.  They share unnamed glances before walking into the Great Hall.

 _It certainly looks different,_ Harry thought. He used a hand to push dark, unruly curls from his face, wanting to get a better look at the Hall. The tables were filled with Death Eaters, both senior and newly initiated. Proud parents touched freshly printed Dark Marks with gentle fingers, wary of their children’s winces but eager to see. Students protected by their parents blood and allegiances watch with fear-filled eyes as the “traitors” step in. Harry’s sure they all smell vile, but he can’t bring himself to have any shame. Beside him Ron grumbled something about them being cowards. Harry can’t say he shared the same thoughts. They were victims to. They just didn’t know it yet.

The High Table remained, but it is outfitted with different patrons. No longer does Albus Dumbledore’s twinkling eye grace them all. No, only the senior most Death Eaters with masked faces, and, of course, the Dark Lord himself. He looked different too. He resembled what Harry assumed he looked like if he hadn’t used horcruxes. Pale with sharp features and a mop of grey hair, the Dark Lord’s true age showed in the lines around his eyes and mouth.

Lucius, ever the lapdog, gestured for them all to kneel. As before, most complied. Harry, Hermione, and Ron did not move, leaving them the last ones standing. The Dark Lord’s eyes widened, and something like a coy smile touched his lips. Lucius tossed a desperate look the Dark Lord’s way, but Voldemort put up a hand.

“If the boy wants to stand, let him.” The high, clear voice rang out. He strummed long, slender fingers against the table, considering the act. Harry can’t help but think on how _evil_ he looked in the moment. He truly looked like the embodiment of ill intention.

 _And salvation depending on how cruel he’s feeling,_ Harry thought. He stared at Voldemort, even as the man turned his eyes away to read a sheet of parchment. He raised his brows at something with a bit of a surprised look. The Dark Lord’s eyes lifted to meet Harry’s again. There again went the coy smile.

“Some shall be saved, and some shall be sent to the dungeons for execution.” His tone and body language was relaxed. There was no one to impress with witty words and domineering looks. He _had_ won. He was merely deciding on what to do with the rotting corpses.

There are seconds of silence he continued. “A note before I begin – this list was selected based off of skills. Your blood, no matter how foul, is of no importance to me. I want only the best in my ranks, and if I can find brilliance in a half-breed or a mud-blood so be it."

Some murmurs come from the tables, but the survivors are quiet. Harry shifted on his feet.

“Lavender Brown will serve as a herbology assistant.” The dark-skinned girl gave anxious looks all around. Comforting hands touched her shoulder and arm, reassuring her and encouraging her. She lifted from her kneel, and took the nearest seat.

“Cho Chang will work closely with Department of Security at the ministry. To keep up appearances.” A few chuckles came from beside him. Even the Dark Lord chuckled before gesturing to a seat for Cho. The girl did not need reassurance. Her friend Marietta already sat at a table, and she was eager to take a seat beside him. They squeezed hands, grateful to be together. “Your work with spells will be greatly appreciate Miss Chang.”

“Dean Thomas, Parvati and Padma Patil will be doing good work for us as astronomy researchers.” The three looked at each other before taking deep breaths, and finding seats. Parvati made a beeline for a seat next to Lavender. The relieved smiles on their faces spoke volumes.

“And last but not least is Hermione Granger. She will serve as my personal assistant.” Hermione tightened, shoulders raised in fear. Ron put a hand on her arm.

“No, Hermione, please.” It was futile. The girl gave both their cheeks a gentle touch, lingering for a moment before taking a seat.

“Ah, ah Miss Granger. You will come sit by me.” If a blush could show on Hermione’s brown skin her face would be a fiery red. She walked with her head high, up to the dais, sitting down between the Dark Lord and a Death Eater.

Voldemort peeked at the list again. Harry couldn’t help being curious about what was on the remainder of the list. Surely it was something horrific. He can’t imagine the Dark Lord smiling at anything but horrific things.

“Six more shall be saved. These special few will be trained specially by my Szajha, and shall, hm, _service_ me.” The coy look went sentimental. “My debutantes.” The words were said with such light whimsy Harry feared knowing what the job entitled. “When I call for you step forward.”

“Colin Creevey.” The boy with the mousy brown hair rose from his kneel, unsure of what to do with his feet. Voldemort pointed to the space just in front of the dais. Harry did not miss that the boy looked back at him for some sort of assurance. When Harry nodded and passed on a tense smile, Creevey stood a little taller.

“Justin Finch-Fletchley.” He stumbled forward. Other former Hufflepuffs promise him he’ll be fine – just fine.

“Seamus Finnegan.” The blonde stepped up but not before finding Dean and whispering some promise to him. Harry pretended not to see the quick kiss they shared. A final goodbye.

“Neville Longbottom.” He rose effortlessly, gave all his friends tight hugs and smiles, and then joined the three. He’s changed since he was young. Neville was once a bumbling and nervous thing, and now he was handsome with a devilish kind of charm about him. The swagger he displayed as he took his place was felt by them all. The Dark Lord raised a brow. _Interesting._

“Ronald Weasley.” Ron blanched for a moment. Harry squeezed his arm, turning in to hold him tightly.

“So this is it, huh?”

“I suppose so. Yeah.” Harry gave a little punch. “Promise me you’ll give ‘em hell?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” The smile they shared felt fake as Ron moved forward. Harry bit the inside of his mouth in some attempt to keep himself from shouting.

“Harry Potter.” The hall, filled with little chatter and quick whispers, fell deathly silent. You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Harry shot Voldemort a hard glance. What was his game? What was this? All eyes were on Potter as he stepped forward, mouths agape with shock. Voldemort’s pupils are blown wide, and it made Harry’s skin crawl. Up there close to the dais, a sudden and strange smell hit him. Voices faded around him and he grew drowsy. The last thing he remembers is unfamiliar arms catching him as he blacked out.

 

* * *

 

 When he woke, he was met with the chill of stone.

The other five were tucked into a corner, huddled but separated out of a prudish modesty. They were all nude. It dawned on Harry that he was nude too. If he was any lighter, he’d blush. He covered himself with his hands, mimicking Ron’s own modest gesture

“They took all our clothes. Just snatched ‘em off, and told us to wait here.” Ron said, voice a little shaky. “You don’t reckon they‘ll give ‘em back, do you?”

Harry had no time to answer. The metallic sound of the dungeon grates scraping across stone wore on their ears. A group of Death Eaters enter, armed with their wands.

“On your knees, children, please.” said the high toned voice. “Show respect for the Szajha.” None hesitate to obey.

The sound of heels clicking on the floor touch Harry’s ears as someone entered.

An eerily familiar voice that Harry assumed belonged to the Szajha spoke. “Why haven’t they been washed yet?”

“My apologies Szajha. We’ll attend to them immediately.”

“I should hope so.” There was disgust in the voice that Harry did not miss. He knew how they looked and smelled, but _still_. “When you’re finished, rub their backs with salve, and bring them to the room of Acca Larentia. They need to be branded.”

 A beat of silence. Harry can feel eyes roaming over them. “That is all.”

There was not a moment of rest. Rough hands grabbed at Harry and their others, all but dragging them down halls and tossing them into cleaning chambers. Showerheads stick violently out the walls. They are not given time to adjust to their new surroundings before hot and rough jets of water hit their bodies. Someone yelped.

They are handled both carefully and carelessly. They are moved with ungentle fingers as they are cleaned. Bars of soft smelling soap as rubbed across skin, pulling up dirt and revealing sores. Harry was shocked by just how many open wounds he had. Some were healing nicely and some were filled with pus. He hadn’t need to worry about it. As soon as they were clean, the Death Eaters went around them all, spelling away any blemishes. Someone washed Harry’s hair, working the thick, untamed afro he sported into a lather. The only relief they received was when straight razors ran up and down their bodies, taking away any traces of hair, and leaving soft, untouched skin in its wake. A spell was muttered over them all. Harry did not recognize it. After it all, warm oils were rubbed into their skin, eliminating all foul smells from them. A cool salve was rubbed onto their backs, and they were given short robes to wear.

They were finally presentable.

The Death Eaters lead the still damp boys out into yet hall, and down a series of winding halls until they reached a white pine door. One of them produced a key and the door was opened.

Harry was struck by how vast the room was. Cool marble walls went up and on for miles it seemed. Everything in the room was some shade of pale pink, white and grey – a room made of dove and albino peacock. The attention of the boys was drawn to the center of the room where it a storm raged on. A curtain of rain fell around a high standing platform.

“The floor isn’t wet.” Seamus said to Harry. He pointed to the ground. “Look, the drops disappear before the touch the ground.”

“It’s to avoid flooding.”

The voice behind them prompted them into turning. A man dressed in a white tunic that barely grazed his knees stood. His face was cherubic, but harsh and jaded. His canted his head.

“Gentlemen, I’ll handle it from here. You can take your leave.” The Death Eaters leave then, leaving the ragtag crew with the stranger. Harry was put on edge by this. Who knew what the soft-faced boy was up to?

The man extended a hand to the rainfall. “The Szajha loves rain. A real rainstorm would make a terrible mess so we make it magically.” He spoke directly to them. “You are the Debutantes I presume?”

Harry took the initiative to speak for them. “I suppose so.”

The stranger smiled before giving a cordial bow. “Welcome to the Room of Acca Larentia. I believe introductions are in order? I’m Aquarius, and for the remainder of your stay I am at your beck and call. It is my duty to bow to the whims of the Debutantes."

All of them noticed the bitter tone. Ron stepped forward, extending a hand. “I’m Ron Weasley.”

Aquarius pulled his hand back. “I’m sorry but I can’t. It’s not in my place to touch a Debutante. That honor is reserved for Death Eaters, the Szajha, and, of course, the Dark Lord himself.”

They all held confused faces, but none wanted to question it.

“The Szajha will see you now,” he said and walked straight towards the rainstorm, the “Debutantes” following behind. As they reach the storm, the sound is deafening. Aquarius has to shout to be heard over the torrent of water. “You will proceed up the stairwell and into the Szajha’s quarters. There you will be appropriately branded.”

He bowed and stood to the side, allowing the Debutantes to pass him by. Harry approached the downpour first and was surprised when the water curved around him.

“Wouldn’t want you drenched for the Szajha.”

He passed through the cleared space and emerged on the other side, facing a wide staircase. A pavilion stands at the top, sheer curtains cloaking it from the outside world. A light wind made the curtains shift and blow. Harry led the way up to the pavilion, cautious after years of war. There was an exhale when they all safely made it to the top of pavilion. A genderless shadow sat within.

“Enter.”

Harry, once again, took charged. He entered the pavilion first, shoving the sheer, useless fabric aside. He saw the Szajha clearly for the first time, and his angers spiked at the sight of him.

“Just my luck,” said Harry under his breath. The corners of Szajha’s carefully painted lips sink for just a moment.

Professor Snape sat on a colorful mound of pillows in the center of the pavilion. He, too, looked different. The last time Harry saw Snape was in the heat of war – the final stand, the last chance. They _had_ thought that Severus was with them, but in an unsurprising change of events Snape switched sides once more, leaving the Light defenseless. Imagine Harry’s surprise to see him now, dressed like some sort of royalty.

First off, Severus looked decidedly more ethnic. Whatever made his skin seem sallow and yellow disappeared giving him a healthy brown glow. A river of jet colored hair was piled onto his head in an effort that must have taken all morning. Kohl lines his eyes and his lips are a sophisticated shade of red. A robe the color of onyx clings to any assets he possessed, laced around at the waist and revealing a scandalous amount of smooth, brown skin. His nose fit nicely on his face and completed his exotic look.

“What the fuck?” Ron said, not so quietly. The professor raised a drawn brow.

“My sentiments exactly, I assure you. Imagine the shock I received when I learned that you were to be the new Debutantes.”

The boys went quiet, staring as Severus – the Szajha – plucked a cigarette from a diamond-encrusted container next to him and lit it. “In this, let’s say, _terrain_ I am not known as Professor Snape.” He took in a heavy suck. “I’m called the Szajha. You may call me Severus if you wish.” He let the smoke out in a long, wispy plume. Neville made a face. Surely, this must’ve been his worst nightmare – Snape in a position of power over him once more.

“We should begin with, I suppose, the branding. It will take a few days as it is and, I must be honest, I wish to get it over with as soon as possible.”

Harry spoke. “I’ll go first then.” He stepped up to the mound of pillows.

Professor – _Severus_ rolled his eyes. “Gryffindor,” he muttered, voice smoky in quality. He snapped slender fingers and, quickly and efficiently, a series of servants came running to the pavilion. It’s a mix of young men and women, garbed in white tunics like Aquarius. There was a sterile aura to them. It reminded Harry of eunuchs in harems, never to touch the sacred. He’s certain Severus, of all people, shouldn't be considered sacred. Still, they hold bottles of ink, and one of them presented Severus with a penknife. He gave his cigarette a few quick puffs before snuffing it out in a nearby ashtray and took the penknife into his hands.

“Remove your robe,” he commanded, pricking the tip of his finger with the blade. A single drop of blood produced. He was quick to suck it away. Harry would not allow himself to be embarrassed in front of him, but he was still wary of undressing in front of a former professor.”

“Oh please Potter, as if I’m _dying_ to see your naked body.” He turned the knife in his hands. “We will come to know each other far more intimately.”

Harry glowered at that, not liking the promise one bit.  He managed, still, to untie the robe and let it drop to his feet. Severus examined him quickly, eyes roaming over muscle and fat. He nodded his approval, and then patted the pillow in front of him. Harry took a step forward, but felt a hand on his arm, holding him back.

“You don’t ‘ave to do this.” It was Ron, and he wasn’t trying to keep his voice low.

“It’ll be fine,” said Harry. “I don’t find the _Szajha_ to be intimidating at all.”

Severus made no comment on Harry’s words. “Sit with your back towards me,” he commanded. Harry does as he was instructed. It’s not a moment before thick thighs clamp around his hips. There’s a hot whisper in his ear – “You’re going to try and run. No matter how brave you _think_ you are, you’re going to try. We all have."

“Not me,” responded Harry, almost spitting in Severus’s face.

“I must say Potter,” he dipped the penknife into a container of black ink, “that this hostility you’re set on showing me is the first genuine hostility I’ve seen from you since Lord Voldemort conquered the wizarding world. You’ve been taking your defeat very well. Hold still.”

The penknife dug into Harry’s back and a hot, white flash of pain shot through Harry’s body. It was heated and cloying, the kind of pain that made Harry work his way into cold sweats. He tried to lash out at Severus, and he tried to run. Severus cool hands held him down firmly.

“Stop trying to fight it,” he said, and it came out like a whisper. A hand trailed down Harry’s chest. Harry pushed against the touch as he gasped for air. “If you fight, the pain will drive you mad.”

“Yeah? And what do you think I should do?” Harry leaned back some, trying to recover from the ache.

“Keep strong, and learn how to enjoy it. After all this is the last time you will feel any pain.”

Harry looked back at Severus, face sour for just a moment longer, before sinking into the older wizard’s arms. He nodded, deciding he _was_ strong enough to continue the branding. The penknife cut into his flesh time and time again. He sat there for hours and eventually the pain became only a slight irritation. Harry numbed until, finally, the pain stopped altogether. A minty lotion that felt like ice is rubbed into his back. Severus does not let him go and the two of them sit in silence.

“What _is_ a Debutante?” Harry asked.

“A Debutante is the epitome of intellect, culture, etiquette, sexuality, and beauty, “said Severus in response. He gave Harry’s soft, deeply curled hair a gentle touch. It felt too gentle for Severus, and it caused Harry to pull away. “We are the centerpieces of empires.”

“Who knew the wicked Professor Snape had some paternal feelings in him?” Harry’s voice was laced with poison. “Nothing has changed you know. You’re still the abusive ass who helped spoil my childhood.”

“And you’re still the useless waste of skin you were in school,” Severus has just as much poison in him if not more. “Many things will change. You trust your eyes, but not everything is as it appears to be.”

“You treated me terribly. You hated me because you couldn’t have my mother.”

Severus doesn’t respond. It made Harry flinch in anger. “Send one of the others up here and go rest.”

Harry obeyed, staggering down the mountain of pillows. His back burned with the heat of the healing mark and the cool lotion.

“Someone go up there,” he said before collapsing onto the floor and into sleep. 

* * *

 

When he woke everything was disturbingly silent. He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, to find that the other five had all left, leaving him alone. The sound of bare feet moving against marble fixed that thought. Severus rose from behind a partition looking much more familiar. His hair had lost its luster and the makeup was removed. He looked more like Professor Snape than the oddly, and annoyingly, sensual Szajha. The only true difference about him was the hair. It had, at once, stopped around his shoulders. Now it flowed down his back, flicking around his upper thighs. He climbed onto the mountain of pillows, pulling a light cotton sheet over his body.

“Don’t just stare Potter. If you want to join me, join me.”

Harry’s face spoke of repulsion but he went to Severus’s side, crawling under the sheet with him. It felt like a lewd parody of sleepover. Harry did _not_ want to think about the undertones.

“Who went after me? To get the mark, I mean.”

“Creevey,” said Severus. “His name is Colin, yes?”

Harry nodded. “How can you not know his name? He was your student, and you didn’t take the time to learn it?”

Severus’s face is unreadable. “He emulates you.” Both brows rise and all. “He’s a fool for it. Look at you now.”

Harry frowned, creating lines in his face. “Nothing wrong with having a role model.”

“When your role model managed to fail at saving the wizarding world, some questions are to be raised.” He made a nothing noise. “Finnigan, then Longbottom, and then Weasley. Mr. Weasley almost had to be dragged.”

“Why am I the only one left?”

“You were the only one who fell unconscious,” said Severus. “And you were the only one I invited to stay.”


	2. Wickedness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't be nervous....Nothing Ill will befall you tonight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I am again with another chapter! In the original fic Severus plays the flute, and I really didn't like that so I switched it out for a poem that I wrote myself. Tell me how you like the fic, if there's any suggestions for change, if you 'd like me to stick to the original text -- I love imput!

To watch Severus work was to watch an artist. Harry, with as much sour feelings he held for him, could appreciate the work he was doing. The next morning he started on Justin. When the Hufflepuff cried, Severus dabbed them away, giving him mercury-laced encouragements. Meanwhile the rain continued to pour down outside, isolating the pavilion from the rest of the castle. It helped create a strange community among them. Here, in this secluded sector, they are calm and peaceful. The war is under their skin, unavoidable and vicious, but it laid in wait. Harry scoffed. Of all people, Lord Voldemort introduced him to peace.

Even Ron was beginning to relax, something that surprised and amused Harry. “Not bad here,” Ron said, resting his head against a stitched pillow. “Better than camping, eh, Harry?”

The reference to their time in the woods brought a gentle smile to his face. Seamus was less convinced, and spoke in low tones. “We should wait before deciding anything.”

“I thought we were going to be scrubbing floors or somethin’ like that,” Ron laughed and it’s loud and new and different. Harry can’t remember the last time he heard Ron laugh. “You know, down on our knees with the scouring brush.”

“I assure you that will never happen.”

Aquarius stood behind them, a tray of steaming hot teas in his hands.

“I thought you might like something to refresh your spirits,” he said, laying the tray down before them all with a bow. “And I want to answer any questions that you may have.”

“Questions! God, do I have a ton of those,” scoffed Ron. “First off, what the ‘ell is this Debutante nonsense?”

Aquarius sat down, slightly outside of their circle. He tucked his feet underneath him. Harry noticed, then, how young the man was. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-something, just a few years older than him.

“The story of the Debutantes,” Aquarius started, “is a startling one with great triumph and romance, and it all begins the Dark Wizard Grindelwald’s rise to power in the year 1903…”

“Oh Lord, it’s Professor Binn’s History of Magic course all over again,” Ron groaned, regretting his curiosity.

“Aquarius is much more interesting than Binns,” Seamus laughed. He moved to punch Aquarius playfully. The young man recoiled frantically. “Oh, forgot. Not allowed to touch you.”

Aquarius spoke a small apology before continuing. “In 1899, Gellert Grindelwald fell in love with a most extraordinary young man going by the name of Albus Dumbledore.”

Eyes widened at the words. Sure, they were aware of the late professor’s sexuality, but to hear he had direct ties to original Dark Wizard was startling.

“The two of them were a wickedly brilliant pair. They meshed together fabulously. Their ideals and thoughts matched, and they completed each other. If Gellert was the moon, then Albus was the sun. It was a love that bloomed famously.”

Confused faces wondered how Dumbledore had any pull over the history of Debutantes. Aquarius continued. “They fell apart, however, when Gellert had shown that his intentions were not pure. The Elder Wand had driven him into madness, making him the volatile and wicked wizard we know him as. In his sorrow, Gellert came across a second boy named Alysaundre Demiere. Now, Gellert did not love Alysaundre as purely as he loved Albus, and Alysaundre did not love Gellert at all I think. I’m sure that Mr. Demiere wanted Gellert for his claim over the wizarding world. The love was more of an obsession for power and great ambition.” He stopped to catch a breath. “After a lengthy courtship, Alysaundre agreed to bind himself Grindelwald and become his personal servant. In 1905, Alysaundre became the first Szajha. It was not long until the boy grew weary of his isolated life, and demanded that Grindelwald supply him with companionship. Grindelwald complied, and in 1907, the first Debutantes were called. The Debutantes were a diverse and illustrious group of young men, known for their culture and beauty. One young man stood out of them all. He was known as Maxime Cordett and he was known as the ‘plume of Grindelwald’s empire’. Alysaundre took a liking to Maxime, and started up an affair with the young Debutante.”

Some grimaces from the six boys. Ron muttered something about infidelity that Harry couldn’t catch. “So what happened next?”

“Oh, yes, this is where it gets fascinating.” Aquarius leaned in, spanning out his hands in dramatic storytelling. “Grindelwald was unaware of this tryst, completely in the dark about the affair for 17 years. Some say the cause of his distraction was his correspondence to Albus Dumbledore to which he frequently wrote. There’s speculation that Alysaundre felt spurned. Imagine how you’d feel if you lover for the past nineteen years still had feelings for his past partner.” He calmed his tone. “Anyways, when Grindelwald found out he was heartbroken, and had it not in his heart to forgive Alysaundre. In his anger, he cursed the lovers, stripping away their beauty and sending them to the depths of Azkaban. They would be the precursors of the Dementors.”

“You ‘ave to be kiddin’ me!” Ron said, fascinated by the morbid tale. “That’s twisted!”

“Of course.” Aquarius stated as if there were nothing horrifically scarring about the tale he told. “Why do you think the Dementor’s kiss as their punishment of choice? Grindelwald fell from his place of power when Dumbledore defeated him, and the entire system of Szajha and Debutante would’ve disappeared if it weren’t for a young man with a liking for old traditions. Upon his ascent to power, the Dark Lord became fascinated with a young potions student at Hogwarts. After graduating Hogwarts, Severus became the second Szajha in history.”

“And we’re the second set of Debutantes,” said Neville. He held his cup of tea in both hands, captivated and riddled silent by Aquarius’s tale.

At the exact moment, Justin tumbled down from the high mountain of pillows, tripping over a cushion and landing in Harry’s lap. Seamus stroked the boy’s hair in some half-hearted attempt to comfort as Harry examined the brand. It was extremely intricate. Black ink created flowers and vines with letters laced in. Aquarius looked over at the Mark.

“It’s a bit puffy now, but it’ll heal well.” He touched the puffed, inflamed skin. “It’s beautiful work.”

“As always, thank you Aquarius.” Severus dragged his eyes around the room before landing them on Ron. “Mr. Weasley, I don’t believe I got to finish yours last night. I was painfully tired. I was sure I’d end up injuring you in my state. Come.”

Ron froze. Harry froze too, putting out a protective arm. Again, Severus rolled dark and endless eyes. “If I want to stab him I would’ve done it last night. Don’t be foolish Potter. Weasley?”

Harry touched his arm in a wordless question. Ron nodded. “Best to get it over with eh?” He unwrapped his robe, dropped it to his feet, and followed Severus up to his pillows.

* * *

 

Night brought a cover of warmth, wrapping the newly made Debutantes in a sheet of stars. They slept, all of them tonight, in a room across from the Acca Larentia. The walls seemed to bend with its rainforest motif and the ceiling was painted with the cosmos. A shooting star passed over their heads.

Ron and Harry were the only ones still up. The others fell asleep in different stages of undress, all snoozing happily in the pillowed room. Harry’s eyes traced the pattern of a falling meteor.

“So where were you last night?” Ron turned to him, shoulder exposed and dusted with freckles. “You didn’t sleep with the rest of us.”

“Yeah. Severus had me sleep with him.” Ron made an ugly face that Harry laughed at.

“My sympathies. I had thought you ditched us.”

“Come on. Me? Ditch you guys for that bat? You’re absolutely nuts.”

It’s silent between the two of them for just a moment. “So what do you think of this place? Make an escape plan? Or enjoy it.”

Harry hadn’t put any real thought into it. His eye caught Neville having a nightmare. He’s wordless as he woke the boy, shaking strong shoulders and urging him out of his bad dream. The boy – man, really – sat up, breathing deeply. Harry returned to his spot next to Ron. He doesn’t think about how Neville’s parents were killed when Voldemort cleansed the Hospital. He doesn’t think about how Neville’s own grandmother had been deemed too weak and feeble to be of any use and was killed. His head is haunted by enough ghosts. He doesn’t want to hear any more wailing voices calling him from beyond the grave.

Remembering Ron’s question, he shrugged his shoulders. “I certainly don’t like being underneath Snape, but it’s better than the foyer. At least here we’re eating and we know we’ll have some place to sleep. We can get better here.”

Ron lie with his arms folded underneath his head. “I guess so. I’m worried about this turning to shit. Everything we have just turns to shit.” His voice was vague and empty. “Do you think we’ll see our families again? Ginny? Mum and Dad? Remus, I guess, for you.”

Harry let out an anguished sound. How could he forget! No doubt Remus was captured by now, and either being tortured for fun or dead in some unmarked grave. The thought drove a lump into his throat. He shot up.

At the doorway is Severus, dressed in a nearly see through dressing gown and holding a candle. The golden glow illuminates the gown. Harry turned away so he wouldn’t see the curve of hip Severus made no attempt to hide. “What’s wrong? I heard something.”

“Nothing.” A beat. “Neville had a nightmare.”

Severus made an empty hum. “Sure. Is he alright? Does he require any assistance?”

“Nothing we can’t provide,” said Harry. He watched as Severus turned on his heel, ready to leave the room. “Wait. Wait!”

“Is something the matter now?”

“What happened to Remus Lupin? Is he safe?”

An exasperated sigh came forth. “I have no clue. Are you going to need to know now, or can this wait until morning?”

If it was anything else then he could wait until morning. Remus was the last bit of family he had. The least he could do is have his existence confirmed. “I have to know now. It can’t wait not another second.”

In the candle glow, Harry can see Snape’s thin cut face thinking. An eyebrow arched then fell, deciding on something. “Fine Potter. If you must know then we must seek audience with the Lord Voldemort.”

* * *

 

“Don’t be nervous,” said Severus, picking through an extensive wardrobe. He disappeared into the closet coming back out with different gowns and robes, pressing them against Harry’s skin, and making tsking noises as he set them back. “Nothing ill will befall you tonight.” He chose a virginal white gown that came with a blue, hideously floral printed bodice. He set it against Harry’s skin, nodding in approval.

“Try this.” His voice is weary and weighed down with sleep. He handed the clothes to Harry. “If you don’t mind, I must make myself presentable.” Harry held the clothes out, not liking how the much the outfit looked like ugly curtains. “This seems a lot just to ask how a friend is.” Harry began to undress, tossing clothes aside in a haphazard pile. “Doesn’t this seem a bit, I don’t know, overdone?”

“A debutante must never appear in a state of undress in front of anyone of import,” said Severus, dipping into the closet and pulling out a few more dresses. He stood, briefly, in front of a silvery mirror, comparing the gowns before settling on a simple one in dove grey. He disappeared behind the paper scrim, leaving Harry to figure out how to fit himself into his own dress.

He tried, first, to fit it over his head, but the large plume of natural hair prevented it. There was no way to just shrug into it like a robe. He quirked his lips. Oh! He laid the dress on the floor, careful not to dirty the light fabric, and stepped into it. He shimmied it over his thighs and hips, holding the bodice over his flat chest. He scoffed at the space between bodice and chest, feeling ridiculous. He fiddled with the strings, wondering how he was to lace it up.

“Don’t try doing that yourself.”

Severus appeared from behind the partition, looking more like “the Szajha” dressed in gray and soft yellow. He stood behind Harry, fingers ghosting over the boy’s shoulders momentarily before the bodice cut off all circulation in his chest.

Harry took a strained breath, shooting poisonous daggers at Severus with his eyes. The Szajha pays him no attention. “God!” Harry tried to elbow Severus off of him. “Can you try not pulling it so tight? I can’t breathe!” In response, Severus pulled even harder, effectively pushing up Harry’s chest in some garish impression of breasts. Harry felt as if there was no more air in his lungs.

“Sit,” commanded Severus, motioning to the vanity set against a near wall.

“In this deathtrap? I couldn’t even if I wanted!”

“Stop the melodramatics Potter.” Severus scowled, cranky from being dragged out of sleep and from interacting with Harry. “Of course you can sit. Keep a straight back and don’t even dream of slouching.”

Harry wanted to shout how impractical the how notion thing was, but he’s sure he couldn’t manage pulling up one breath. He eased his way into the chair, back ramrod straight as he took in his features in the mirror. The cleaning got a way a lot of the scars and discoloration, but Harry still looked tired. He wondered if his eyebags would insult Voldemort. “You should know that this is very uncomfortable.”

“Beauty is uncomfortable Mr. Potter,” Severus opened a drawer, pulling out a brush. “It’s best you strike all thoughts of that from your head. In time you’ll get adjusted to it.”

Harry does not respond, but he does flinch when Severus brought the brush through his hair. Between hard brush strokes, Harry took a peek at himself. Not bad, but there was too much hardness in his face to be soft.

Severus stopped his brush torture to begin working Harry’s hair into a braid. “Somehow we will make you something worthwhile.” He dug his fingers into Potter’s mop, exasperated by the mass. “Somehow.”

* * *

 

“Our Highest Lord bids your welcome.”

The servant gave a curt bow and stood aside, leaving the two of them standing in front of the door. Harry did not recognize this portion of the castle. He wasn’t certain, honestly, that this was even Hogwarts any more. Hogwarts was red brick and wood and ancient carvings. This was all cool marble and unfamiliar doors. He thought back, and recalled a blank space of memory when he first dropped unconscious. It could be that he and the others were all transported to this strange and tomb-like manor. He spoke this to Severus who in turn made a curious sound.

“We’re at Malfoy Manor. Hogwarts still must function as a school and Riddle Manor was falling apart. The Malfoys have been ever so gracious to host us.”

Harry nodded but it was cut short by his scar stinging. The familiar pain was horrific, but after years of it, he could do nothing more than rub at it and pray the pain away. He did not need to fear what it meant. He was assured of what lied behind the door.

“Calm your nerves Potter,” Severus said, adjusting his gown so that it lie smoothly. “There’s nothing to fear but fear itself. Remember?”

Harry doesn’t have a chance to ask where Severus heard that. The Szajha had already pushed open the door, revealing to Harry a sitting room. It was oddly bland, and Harry had a hard time believing the Dark Lord would make himself at home among the matte couches and relaxed tones. On the wall in a handstitched blanket. Harry got close enough to read the words:

I built a tiny garden in the corner of my heart. I kept it just for lovely things, and bade all else apart. And ever there was music, and flowers blossomed fair. Yet it was never perfect, until you entered there. ---SS

“You seek audience with me?”

Harry’s head was turned to the high voice. In his brief moments of distraction, Severus went off to kneel beside the Dark Lord, head resting on his thigh. He looked serene there, as if this was the place he fit perfectly. Voldemort reached a hand out and stroked at Severus’s hair.

While Harry’s sure he could watch them like this for hours, he did come with question. The words, however, are stuck in his throat. He wished to feel some sort of anger, some disgust that this is what Severus betrayed them for, but all he can muster is an empty, nameless loneliness.

“So you won’t ask your question,” Harry despised the thought of Voldemort as playful when so many are dead by his hand. He was, though, extremely playful and relaxed in the eyes, in the shoulders as he ran a finger over the shell of Severus’s ear.

Harry nodded and it was a very hard, stiff move.

“Forgive me, my Lord, it’s only the second day of their training. They’ve received their marks, but I have yet to teach them anything of etiquette.”

“He’s so abrasive. I’d be amazed if anyone, even you dearest, would be able to make him into delicate.” Voldemort beckoned Harry closer. The boy came along, stiff from his own dislike of the situation and the suffocating bodice. “Curtsy please.”

Harry shook his head, head snapping to Severus in some hope of an explanation. Severus said nothing and turned to rub his forehead against Voldemort’s thigh. In response, Voldemort gave Severus’s hair a little scratch. He looked extremely puppy-like in the moment, and Harry wanted to scream it out.

“It is your duty as a Debutante, Harry, to be the epitome of etiquette. You live my traditional rules,” echoing Severus’s words from the day before. “When a Debutante approaches a Death Eater, it’s custom for the Debutante to curtsy to show their respect and admiration.”

Respect and admiration? Respect and fucking admiration? Harry scoffed, but understood that this was his position now, and if he ever wanted to survive he’d have to bow and curtsy in front of the heartless monsters that tortured him and his friends. He tried to mimic the curtsies he’s seen on TV -- sweeping low, crossing at the ankle -- and he’s sure he’s got it. The Dark Lord applauded the effort while Severus had the most amused expression on his face.

“With enough pushing and prodding, I’m certain he’ll become a rather fine Debutante.” He gave an approving nod. “Though I must say I’m surprised. I expected a fight out of you, and here you are curtsying with barely a snarl? What happened little lion? Did you lose your bite?”

It made Severus chuckle some, and Harry hated how happiness sounded for Severus. How many people died so he could sit there like some kept man, laughing and being petted? Harry shifted his weight on his feet, arms behind his back, and his fingers digging into his forearm.

“A strong man knows when he’s been beaten and he knows how to accept defeat without complaint. You finally got me. If my survival depends on me bowing my head, and playing some sort of consort, I’m happy to curtsy.” Harry’s not sure if he believed himself. He knew there was a lot of fire and fight in him, but to bring it up felt like bringing up bile. Bravery was lost on him. The Boy Who Lived into the Boy Who Gave Up. “I haven’t lost anything. I just want to rest.”

“An exceptional Debutante already. Diplomatic,” he said. He stopped scratching, putting one still hand on Severus’s locks. “Will you read me something? Or, perhaps, recite?” He gestured to a shelf of books. Thick heavy tomes that Harry just knew were full of dust and moths and long-dead words. Severus lifted and curtsied -- way better than Harry -- before striding to the bookshelf. His fingers touched the rows of books before settling for a skinnier one. He flipped the book over, showing the cover to the Dark Lord. Harry looked too.

It was a slim black book. It was very well taken care of, loved even. On the front was an etched sort of handwriting, as if someone carved something into it. The Dark Lord motioned for Harry to sit, and he obeyed, feeling ever like a trained animal. Next he’d learn to roll over and play dead. Still, he sat down and leaned in as Severus spoke words from the book:

_The man with no heart,_  
_born from wickedness_  
_speaks of love and soft_  
_intentions to the boy with_  
_no love, and a heart that_  
_desires to be owned._

_The boy with no love,_  
_and his un-mastered_  
_heart gives pieces of_  
_himself until he is sure_  
_that the heartless man will_  
_be kind to his. The heartless_  
_man promises gentleness,_  
_sweetness -- things he does_  
_not possess._

_The loveless boy scoffs,_  
_‘How do you give things_  
_you do not have? How can_  
_I trust, o heartless man, that_  
_you will be kind to my heart? The_  
_heartless man, with bright eyes_  
_and mouth full of promises speaks,_  
_“I am gentle with things that I mine.”_  
_And at last, the un-mastered heart was tamed.”_

There was stillness as Severus snapped the book shut and put it back in it’s place. Voldemort wore a bizarre smile that took up his face. “After all these years, you still speak it as if you believe it.” Severus bowed his head, ever graceful as he took his seat next to the Dark Lord.

The attention shifted from Severus to Harry. “Your question? You came to ask one, yes?”

Harry had not forgotten. “A friend of mine -- Remus Lupin. Is he okay?”

Voldemort thought for a moment, casting glances from Severus to Harry. “He is in my custody and fine. Better than he was I would think.”

Relief came in waves over Harry. He did not wish to dissect the man’s words. For now, his only family was safe.


	3. training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the training begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kill me for never updating but today I have two new chapters.
> 
> As much as I love the original fic, I'm starting to get the feeling that Calliopea didn't like Ron at all. All you Ron fans can put down your pitchforks because I've made a lot of changes to his personality and his interactions with Harry. I also fixed Harry's personality too.
> 
> I got rid of that cringy part where Harry gets jerked off in front of his friends, but don't worry he gets jerked off anyway.
> 
> Feel free to leave long winded comments because I, like many others, live for book reports.

“Today we’ll begin basic training,” Severus said, pacing the length of the pavilion, and looking very much like his old self. Hair pulled severely into a bun and dressed in dark robes, he reminded them all of their days at Hogwarts, shuddering out of fear. The authoritarian tones rang out as his continued. “You will need to know at least the basics of training before the Cockatrice Bacchanalia next weekend.”

“Cockatrice Bacchanalia? That’s sounds obscene,” said Ron, already scowling. Harry shared his opinion. Based off what he saw last night, he had some inkling what the Dark Lord expected of them.

“It doesn’t matter how obscene you may find it Mr. Weasley,” said he with an arch of the sculpted brow. “Since you, Weasley, are a debutante, you are expected to attend. And since I am your Szajha and in charge of your activities, you will be attending.”

Ron let out a distressed noise, but made no other protests. Severus waited in silence in case any of them had more to give then carried on.

“You will then learn other aspects of culture. How to debate, how to discuss art, how to dance -- I’m assuming none of you know anything more than the popular dance moves of today. I’m referring exclusively to waltz.” He paused. “Do any of you know how to waltz?”

They were all silent. Waltzing, they thought, was for old men and women with sentimental songs in their heads, spinning circles into the dance floor. It was not for the young and virile whose hips were made for grinding and twisting and shaking. Waltzing was for people who forgot how to have sex.

“You will also need to learn the art required after the Bacchanalia. You will have to be well-learned in _that_ ,” Severus took a seat on a nearby chaise lounge, sprawling luxuriously across it. “It is the Debutante’s main role to be well-learned in that.”

Confused faces wonder what that is, but it was only Ron who was bold enough to ask. “And what exactly is that? You’re being very vague.”

“Sexual pleasures,” said Severus, as blunt as ever. “After the Bacchanalia, you all will be expected to allow Lord Voldemort to bed you -- deflower you, also, I suppose. I know you all are quite virginal. He’ll be your first sexual partner as he was mine.”

Harry was unsurprised, but he could not say the same for his companions. They looked horrified, faces red from embarrassment. He supposed he also felt horrified, but after what he saw last night he figured that this was what they were for. He wanted to laugh. Savior of the wizarding world to personal sex thing for his arch enemy.

“You mean we’re supposed to allow him to fuck us?” Ron was the first to come back to his senses. He was Harry’s mouthpiece almost, saying the words that so often got choked in Harry’s throat.

Severus reached for his box of cigarettes, pulling one out and setting it between his teeth. “Fuck you, service you, bed you, pleasure you, make love to you -- your body is his. Personal agency is for the dead and the dying.”

They all sat in horror as Severus puffed on his cigarette, exhaling smoke and watching their reactions. He tapped some of the ash out before settling it back in his mouth. “The art of pleasure is the most important lesson you’ll learn. You shall learn by observation, mostly, and by some experience prior to the Bacchanalia.

Seamus this time spoke, “Observing? Observing who?”

Severus, in between a rather large cloud of smoke, said, “Why, me of course.” He shifted in the lounge so that he lie on his back. “I happen to be well-versed in the art of lovemaking.”

To the left of him, Harry saw Neville and Ron wrinkle their noses. While he had an idea of their purpose he was still put off by the idea of someone shagging Professor Snape. Sure, he looked nicer, but sex? Harry made a childish face.

“You?” Ron said, once again voicing what they all thought. “People want to shag you?”

Head turned upwards and eyes facing the ceiling, Severus looked serene but dangerous. The rainfall got louder and heavier, and the air smelled the way it did just before lightning strikes. He sucked in, hard and deep on the cigarette, waited then let the smoke out in a long, dragging cloud. “Mister Weasley, I can promise you that more than a few have come to my bed, quite literally begging me to sleep with them.” He crushed the cigarette out on the near ashtray. “There has not been one that has walked -- no, crawled -- away who I didn’t have singing my name. There is no other in our Dark Lord’s ranks with more experience than I.” He turned to them, dark eyes full of fire “I assure you Mr. Weasley -- I am highly desired.” Painted lips curled in a mockery of a smile. “I could always show you what I mean. If you’re more touch based learner.”

Ron dipped his head, face red hot in a mix of disgust and anger and maybe something he won’t admit to himself. The rest of them, some more red-faced than others, quieted.

Harry finally spoke, having built enough courage to ignore his turning belly, “You mentioned experience. Are you going to be doing that yourself?”

“Naturally,” said he, giving his cigarette holder a glance before tossing it aside. “No one but the Szajha is allowed to touch you all until Lord Voldemort beds you.”

A silence fell over them again, interrupted only by Ron muttering something perversion. Severus shot a glance at him but said nothing to imply he cared.

Colin cleared his throat, breaking the awkward air. “So what are we doing today?”

“Thank you Mr. Creevey for showing some enthusiasm in your training,” Severus sat up on the chaise lounge, pushing back wayward locks of hair. “Today will be basic etiquette. You’ll learn how to curtsy and properly address Lord Voldemort.”

“Curtsy?” Justin said, speaking for the first time since he got his mark. “But we’re men. Men don’t curtsy.”

“You’re not men any more Mr. Fletchly. You’re a debutante -- something else entirely.”

* * *

 

Severus massaged his temples. They had been at this for hours, practicing and going over the simple movement enough times to make his eyes blur. Still, the Debutantes were awkward and clunky on their feet, moving awkwardly as they did lazy bows.

“Alright. Show me that you learned something in this lesson, and we’ll stop for today.”

Seamus went first. He stared at his feet the whole time, willing himself not to make a mistake. The words sounded sincere enough – “My Lord, I am honored to formally make your acquaintance.” Severus nodded – it was passable.

Colin next, and the boy tried his best. He swept low and stumbled on the way down, but recovered himself well. “My Lord, I am honored to formally make your acquaintance.” He spoke in his deep but sweet voice. Severus smiled the entire time.

Justin earned a word of praised from the Szajha. His curtsy was graceful if not hesitant. His words were soft and respectful.

Neville, though awkward, did a decent job. He stumbled some and missed a few words, but it was good enough to make Severus nod.

Ron’s was rough and not nearly as graceful, but Harry doesn’t think anyone expected it to be. Severus asked him to soften himself a few times. Ron did not change anything, and eventually Severus put his hand up. “Please, Mr. Weasley, sit. We’ll work on you later.”

Harry was the last one to go. His curtsy was better performed than last night. He made some adjustments, and when he spoke it well-mannered and well-spoken.

Severus applauded the attempt, and for a few angry moments Harry was certain the claps were sarcastic. “Very well done Mr. Potter.” He lifted from his seat. “You all will do well to emulate him.”

Sweeping long dark locks up and away from his face, Severus made his way past the Debutantes. “We’ll retire from this room. I refuse to entertain guests in the Room of Acca Larentia.”

He stepped down from the pavilion and into the rain. It contorted around his body, and around the Debutantes as they walked through after them. He led them across the room and stood before the door as he extracted a key from his loose robes.

“Are you leaving, Szajha?” Aquarius asked, bowing deeply.

“Yes, Aquarius,” he responded, turning the key in the lock. “I have a guest to entertain at the moment.”

“And the Debutantes are accompanying you?”

Severus pushed open the door, revealing the dark and unfamiliar corridor that led deeper into the Malfoy manor. Behind him, the Debutantes squished together, keeping close in a lingering fear of the unknown.

“The Debutantes have much to learn Aquarius,” said Severus simply, leaving it at that as he walked out into the corridor, a string of Debutantes in tow. They traveled down an assortment of hallways and past countless doors, eyeing portraits of past Malfoys and expensive looking sculptures. Severus led them up a flight of stairs to a door etched with gold leaves.

“The Malfoys were kind enough to give away a master suite so that I could rest in some luxury. Welcome to my personal chambers.” Severus gave a crooked grin, entering the room and beckoning them to follow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must prepare myself.” Severus’s eyes flickered over a calendar near the back of room. He read out the name written under the date – “Draco Malfoy.” Without another word, he slipped into an adjoining room, closing the door behind him.

Ron furrowed his brows, turning to whisper to Harry. “Malfoy? What on earth could he want with Draco Malfoy?”

The Debutantes all sit on various pieces of plush furniture colored the same dove grey as Voldemort’s sitting room. The room was much more luxuriant however. The dark green carpeting was plush and soft underfoot, and a chandelier hung from the ceiling. The walls were a garish pattern that almost shrieked Malfoy. In the center of the room was a large canopy bed backed by a desk and chair. The room was dark, but Harry attributed that more to the closed up curtains. He thought that if Severus were to open the dark drapes light would just flood the room.

A silence fell over them, and it refused to be broken until Severus appeared again. A loose, pale pink robe was tied around him, revealing patches of flesh that showed that he wore nothing underneath. The long locks were eased into curls that tucked nicely into a lazy ponytail. He wore makeup but it was none of the hard lines they had seen. His face looked, for once, very refined and gentle.

The one night Harry slept with him, tucked awkwardly underneath Severus’s body, Severus had fallen asleep quickly. Harry thought that if Snape was to try to kiss him or, God forbid, touch him, he would not protest. He shook the thought from his mind, surprised that such ideas would even come to him.

There was a quick and urgent knock at the door. Severus turned to them.

“This is what I mean by observing,” he whispered. Some of them look as if they are close to vomiting. “Come in,” Severus called and the door opened, revealing Draco Malfoy.

War has changed Draco. It’s sucked the color from his face making him this pale and thin creature with white-blond hair. The six boys holed up in the corner had to restrain themselves. To face the Szajha was nothing. This was someone their age who fought for the wrong side. There was blood on his hands, and no amount of cleaning charms could get it off.

Draco paid no attention to the scrawny things. His eyes were trapped on Severus and filled with an uneasy lust. He remained uneasy as Severus curtsied – flawlessly – front of him. “Good day, sir.”

“Good day, Szajha,” Draco responded, uncomfortable in this setting. He fidgeted with his hands before clearing his throat and continuing. “I trust you’re faring well?”

Harry would like to think that this is embarrassing. Professor Snape with his intimidating words and crooked mouth having to prostrate himself in front of one of his former students. The thought was dashed away. Taking in Draco’s posture, his high nerve-filled shoulders --- it was easy to see who was in control.

“Perfectly, thank you.” Severus doesn’t smile but he does make his face look a smidge friendlier. He took a seat on the bed, positioning himself before beckoning for Draco to come join him. Draco strode over, still stiff in his legs, and sat down next to the former potions professor. He sat, looking starched and uncomfortable, until Severus laid his hands on Draco’s arms. It hit Harry then that the Debutante was the one who held all the power. A Debutante could accept or refuse. The Debutante was the one who began the encounter. Draco leaned into the touch at first then shifted to hold Severus’s hand.

“I’ve wanted this for so long. To pay a debt back at first. I’m not sure when it turned into this aching desire, but,” Draco whispered in Severus’s ear. The Debutantes sat back, straining to hear the sugared words of adoration. “You’re going to hate me for how sentimental this is but you’re the very salt of existence.”

One of them -- the Debutantes, that is -- sighed. Draco jumped then turned, acknowledging their presence for the first time.

“These are my Debutantes.” Severus gestured to them all, still seated.

Draco stood to his feet, eyes dragging over each and every one of them. There was not a trace of that pompous Malfoy attitude that Harry hated so. Instead there was something different. Not reservation and certainly not defeat – it felt like Draco, for once, was at peace. When he surveyed them, those crystal blue-grey eyes were free of judgement. Still the Debutantes sat still, unsure and distrustful of their former classmate. Draco bowed his head and chuckled.

“Szajha, I don’t think your Debutantes trust me. I think they fear I mean them harm.” Draco’s eyes remained locked on Harry. Harry felt his face go hot. Merlin. Of all the people Draco chooses to torture after all these years it has to be him.

“Nonsense. Please, dears, rise and treat this gentlemen with respect.”

They were taken off guard by the term of affection, but rose anyway. One by one they curtsied, and Draco treated them each to a bow and kiss on the palm of the hand. Harry could barely stifle his laughter at the sight of Ron rubbing his hand off on his shift. The amused look was wiped clean from his face when Draco stood before him. “Debutante?”

Harry curtsied best as he could. “An honor to meet your acquaintance sir.” He would not let Malfoy of all people outshine him in etiquette and manners. The former Slytherin smirked some. Perhaps their childhood feud had not died out? Draco bowed then took one of Harry’s hand, flipped it over and gave his palm a kiss. Harry did not miss how long Draco lingered. He snatched his hand back, tucking it behind his back.

Draco raised a brow and dropped it immediately. Eyes still caught on Harry, he spoke, “My Szajha, you must be so delighted to have such lovely Debutantes.” Turning and moving back to Severus, he continued. “To have such beauty shaped under your fingers…”

Severus signaled to Harry with his eyes. Eventually, Harry got what Severus meant. “Your words are too kind.” He doesn’t want to sound venomous, but he doesn’t want to give Malfoy any ideas. His knife isn’t sheathed. Just … lowered. Severus sighed some on the bed, and Harry realized his mistake. “Your words are too kind, sir.”

Finally, said the exasperated look on Severus’s face. He wiped his face clean, however, when he lifted his eyes to meet Draco’s. “I trust you don’t mind if the Debutantes watch?” Severus stood, towering over Draco by just a few inches, and laid gentle fingers on the Death Eater’s hip. Draco was too proud to tremble, but he did lean into the touch. “They are very inexperienced and I’m hoping to teach them something before their first encounter with our Dark Lord.”

“Of course,” Draco took charge now. He grabbed Severus’s hand and led him over to the bed. The Szajha’s smile was coy as Draco untied the robe draped around his form. Draco pushed the flimsy fabric off of Severus’s shoulders, letting the robe pool around his feet. Severus stood in front of his former students – victims, more like – completely nude.

The first thing Harry noticed was that Severus had the same markings as the rest of them. Bigger perhaps, but it was the same marking. While the Debutantes only had vines and flowers across their upper back, Severus’s started from his neck and ended at his ankles. Dark winding vines and intricate flowers entwined with words – spells, Harry thought – covered all of Severus. He would have thought Severus to be a skinny, bony things but the past year or so of pampering and good eating has given Severus something akin to curves. There’s fat around his thighs and arms and the slightest bit around his stomach. He looked well-fed and Harry couldn’t help the spike of anger. Everything about him looked delicate and fine like a painting come to life. Harry tried not to notice these things but it was impossible. The brownish-tan nipples were expected, but he did not plan on seeing the brown-pink erection that sprouted from a nest of black curls. Harry’s face went hot, again, at the sight of the silver piercings that decorated the six inches. He averted his eyes. That was enough of that.

Severus dropped to his knees in front of Draco, unbuttoning the man’s pants and withdrawing the hard flesh from the fabric. From the corner of his eye, he took in the lewd scene. Severus had his mouth around Draco’s tip, teasing and toying with him. Draco jerked his hips and moaned. Severus pulled back, gauging his response. After a beat, Severus went back to his task of teasing.

Harry tried not to feel embarrassed by his own erection. He covered it with a hand, pretending as if this did not cause it.

Inch by inch, Severus took Draco’s dick halfway into his mouth, reaching one hand up to stroke the base. Draco moved to grab a handful of the Szajha’s hair, but stopped. He instead grabbed a nearby bedpost. Already his knuckles had turned a milky white from the strain. The man thrusted, wantonly, into the Severus’s mouth, and Harry watched, spellbound, as Draco’s dick disappeared into the ‘o’ of the puckered lips and then withdrew.

Harry glanced over to the other Debutantes. They too were spellbound, mouths gaping at the display before them. Harry did not want to be the only one jerking off so he didn’t. The erection was getting uncomfortable though. He fidgeted in his seat. There was no discreet way to adjust himself so he sat, mortified, and forced himself to get through this.

Severus withdrew for a moment and took in deep breaths. He let the Draco’s erection rest on his bottom lip.

“Beautiful,” said Draco. Severus smiled before continuing his ministrations. His tongue traced a slow line from the base of Draco’s dick to the tip. This time was different. Severus took Draco all the way in, swallowing him whole. Draco did not last long. He arched his back and shuddered. The two stayed in their positions for a few moments, and then the dick is withdrawn. Severus swallowed politely and wiped the few stray drips away from his mouth with the back of his hand.

Severus lifted to his feet. “If that will be all sir…” Draco tried his best to rise, gave a tired bow to both Severus and the Debutantes. His eyes swept past Harry, dipping to the tent in the other man’s shift. The small quirk of the lips was not to be missed.

“Of course Szajha.” He bowed again with noticeably more effort. “This truly was a pleasure.”

“Call me whenever you wish Mr. Malfoy.” His tone was reverent and chockful of respect. “And please. The pleasure is all mine.”

As soon as Draco left, Severus bent to retrieve his robe. Slipping it back over deep tan shoulders, Severus observed his Debutantes. Half avoided his gaze while the other held looks of disgust and shock. He made a noncommittal noise at their expressions, refusing to be judged by former students, and travelled to stand before them. His eyes wandered over them all, squinting at a few before he spoke again.

“All of you save for Harry as dismissed. You may go to the room of Acca Larentia or you go back to your bedroom.”

Harry froze in his spot, uncomfortable at the thought of being in a room with Snape by himself. Ron stood to leave but cast a sympathetic look behind him. Harry appreciated it but a kind glance would not spare him for whatever tortures Severus had planned. The door closed with a solid thud as the final Debutante left the room. From inside, Harry could hear the footsteps turn into runs. Merlin, he was jealous.

Before Harry could open his mouth to complain, a warm brown hand was wrapped around his erection. His eyes widened and shot up to meet Severus’s. The man held a bored and, frankly, disinterested expression, working his hand in long strokes as he got Harry off. Wide eyes stretched wider as Severus jerked faster and faster, rotating his wrist some until Harry came in thick spurts. Still with the annoyed look plastered onto his face, Severus wiped his hand off on a pillow.

“Stay with me tonight.” Potter was still in a state of shock. He wasn’t sure what just happened but it wasn’t exactly bad. He watched as Severus sat on top of white linen, took his own erection into his hand and got himself off quickly with the same amount of disinterest. Harry’s brows furrowed. What’s the point of being a sex toy to the Dark Lord if you can’t even appreciate it? He shook his head. Was he really sympathizing with Severus because he couldn’t get off? The War must’ve really done something to him.

Severus patted the spot next to him. “Come on Potter. Before I change my mind and have you sleeping with the peacocks.”

Harry stood on wobbling legs and crossed over to the bed. He laid down beside Severus, anxious and a little nerve racked.

“Malfoy seems quite taken with you.”

His cheeks went hot, embarrassment rushing back at the thought of Draco’s lips lingering near his palm. “Well, he can be taken with me all he likes. I’m not interested in him.”

A bitter laugh from Severus. “You think I was taken by all the people I’ve let have me?”

“You certainly weren’t taken with Draco. You didn’t let him stick it in you.”

“Very well said Harry. Truly.” Severus turned over to face Harry. “Besides, I don’t let anyone but Tom ‘stick it in me’. He’s the only one allowed to truly make love to me.” There’s a lot of sentiment in his voice and it makes Harry’s skin crawl. “Don’t ever call him Tom in a formal situation. Don’t call him Tom period, actually. Let him decide if you’re worthy enough to use the nomenclature.”

Harry was still for a moment, questions bouncing around his head. From the corner of his eye he took in Severus. Inky black hair, dark endless eyes and that profoundly confusing nose of his. He hated to even think it, but Severus Snape looked sort of kissable.

“Would you kiss me if I asked?”

Severus laughed and it was different from Ron’s laughter. It was high and bright and sounded horribly young coming from his mouth. “Go to bed Potter. We’ll speak in the morning.


	4. beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “In the near future, you’ll no longer be directly under my care,” Severus explained. “You’ll still be my responsibility – my Debutante always. You won’t live with the rest of the Debutantes though.” He paused for a moment, gauging Harry’s reaction. Harry must admit there is some relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters! In one day?
> 
> This is my favorite chapter in the whole fanfiction and you should really read the original one to see why I love it so much. I just love the Acca Larentia, but it was sort of weird trying to figure out how to move the dome and the greenhouse to the Malfoy Manor. I think it worked out in the end. Thank God the Malfoys are so flamboyant, amirite?
> 
> Also trying to figure out how to have Severus and Harry be sexual and intimate with each other when they really do hate each other was a task, but I think that's working out well too. 
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated.

“What are they?”

They’ve been milling about the Acca Larentia, silent in their work. They carry fabrics and peacock quills, glittering little pins and broches, and an array of shining fanciful things. They set them down in the pavilion, careful to keep the more delicate things away from the drops, then return to gather more. Some come in draped in jewels and others are overwhelmed by sheets of lace.

“They are called Venustians,” said Aquarius. He sat near the Debutantes now, chilled atmosphere whisked away. Harry supposed he liked him. Though they weren’t allowed to touch and though Aquarius’s interactions with them were always professional, Harry couldn’t help feeling as if they were becoming friends. “You may recognize some as former tailors and furriers and designers. They are, now, the milliners and coiffeurs of the Dark Lord’s empire. They thrive off of creating beauty.” He paused to watch a slight young man chalk lines into a bright cutting of fabric. “They are the only servants allowed to lay hands on the Debutantes, but there hands must be covered in dragonhide at all times.”

Partitions of different variations are set up all around the room – make shift dressing chambers. The Venustians prop up clothing racks and fill them with robes and dresses of different hues and styles.

Severus exited the pavilion, speaking amiably with a Venustian. A young man, close to Harry’s age, with deep gray eyes shared friendly words with Szajha, but his posture was wrought with respect and civility.

“My Debutantes.” Severus gestured to the group of men, nodding his head. The nameless man bowed to them, shallow and half-hearted, before lifting his head. He examined them, taking in flaws and little mistakes in their faces. Harry couldn’t help but feel self-conscious.

“You may call me Mattox,” said the man, voice sweet as honey. “I assure you that you can place yourself in my hands with trust and good faith.”

Ron, ever the brash and bold, spoke. “I don’t place myself in anyone’s hands.”

Severus scowled, ruining the pretty façade, but it was Mattox who spoke. “Of course not. I promise, though, that my work is the best there is. I can turn you … men into Debutantes. You’ll be darling, I’m sure.”

Harry found Mattox to be extremely patronizing. Not unlikeable, but extremely patronizing.

“You’ll be spending more than enough time with Mattox and the Venustians later on,” Severus yawned. He pulled his hair back and fastened it in place with two onyx-encrusted pins. “I, for one, am going to retire to my chambers.” To Mattox he said, “Keep in mind Mattox – the Cockatrice Bacchanalia is approaching quickly.”

“Of course, my Szajha.” Mattox bowed, voice filled with reverence.

Harry found Mattox to be extremely sycophantic. Not unlikeable, but extremely sycophantic.

“Come along,” the Szajha commanded. The Debutantes followed in his wake. Harry looked back for a moment and caught Mattox glaring at Neville. Harry scowled. His mind was changed. Mattox was definitely unlikeable. Extremely unlikeable.

Severus led them somewhere unfamiliar, but Harry supposed most of Malfoy Manor was unfamiliar to them. They traveled down many pathways and down many steep steps of stairs until they reached a stone corridor. The walls were covered with moss and ivy, and somewhere a bird gave a shrill chirp, filling the hallway with bird song. Severus lead them through an archway into a solarium. It took Harry a moment to realize that the glassy room double as a greenhouse. Jade eyes followed bees as they bounced from flower to flower. Creeping vines twine up the sides of the walls, twisting around bronze water pipes. Above head maples provide shade. Harry lifted his eyes higher.

It occurred to him then how long it’s been since he’d seen the sun.

A patch of mushrooms, undisturbed, sat undisturbed near the archway of the garden. Ron reached down to observe and tug at one of the ivory-colored stalks.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” That came from Neville. He looked over at the mushroom, brows furrowed. Ron dropped the mushroom instantly. “That’s a destroying angel. One cap of that could kill you.” Neville’s brows smoothed out. “They’re good for potions though.”

Severus, who had stepped ahead of the Debutantes, looked back and raised a curious eyebrow at Neville. He has never thought much of the boy and to hear his great knowledge of herbology and plant-life was most unexpected. He filed away the discovery for later notice. Perhaps the boy who once caused trouble in his potions class could prove useful.

Severus led the Debutantes further into the solarium. Nightingales tittered to and fro, paying no heed to the travelling company. They reached a large clearing, and Severus introduced it as the “Dux Solium”. The ground underfoot was soft with lichen, moss and gentle grasses that tickle at the Debutantes bare feet. A massive, bronze tower spiraled out from the middle of the Dux Solium, sides engraved with runes.

“Welcome to the Fides Solarius,” Severus started, taking his role as professor once more. “Originally the Fides Solarius was built out in Ireland during the rule of Alysaundre and Gellert Grindelwald. Alysaundre meant for it to be testament to his love for Grindelwald, but I’m sure it was just another secret for his dear Maxime. We’ve tried our hardest to replicate the tower, and I think we are achingly close to success.” Fingers traced over the lettering. “The old inscriptions were Latin. Such an unartistic language I thought. The architects translated it all to Arabic.”

“It’s very beautiful.” Justin stepped forward, light colored robe flicking around her knees as he stood on tiptoes to peek. He seemed genuinely entranced. Harry thought the boy might fall in love right then.

“The interior’s even grander.”

* * *

 

The first spiral in the tower was a ball room.

Very grandiose and almost overdone in Harry’s opinion, but he’s sure that people like the Malfoys and Lord Voldemort enjoyed the look. Everything in the ballroom was round – the walls, the chandeliers, the patterning on the floor. Harry lifted his eyes to take in crystal and light streaming from above.

They took a lot of effort, Harry thought, recreating all these special rooms and extravagant things when the Malfoy’s probably already had them. He said this assuming the Malfoy’s had a ballroom. It made perfect sense in his mind. He followed behind his peers, too busy looking around to notice the pale blond boy standing in the middle of the ballroom.

“Good day, Szajha.”

The words shock Harry into attention. On instinct his hand moved to where his wand should be. He was taken back by the emptiness.

“I extend my same kind greetings to the debutantes of course.” Harry felt strange with Draco’s eyes on him even as the man bowed. Harry bowed too and the others follow after. Harry felt less alone in his suspicion seeing Ron observe Draco from the corner of his eye. His friend’s tense shoulders and nervous made him feel validated.

“Good day, sir.” Severus gave a sharp curtsy. “If I may have a word in private?”

“Of course.”

Severus took Draco the arm and all but dragged him up the stairs to the second floor, leaving the group of Debutantes alone. The men milled around in silence, looking at the patterns and feeling like schoolchildren again. Ron found himself a wall to lean against. Harry followed after, leaning next to him.

“I don’t trust him,” Ron murmured. His hands moved as he spoke, twitchy and edgy. “I simply don’t trust him.”

“He’s a snake in the grass is what he is.” Harry wished he had pockets to stuff his hands into but all the robes and gowns they had were made for beauty – not for practicality. He put his hands behind his back, crushing them with chiffon and his own weight. “I keep thinking he’s going to do something horrible to us.”

“Or just to you.” Ron looked Harry up and down. “He’s taken a lot of interest in you lately.”

“It’s not my fault. Don’t you think I’m creeped out by all this Debutante nonsense too?” He squared his shoulders. “We just have to see it through. We’re heroes remember?”

“Yeah. Heroes that didn’t save the day.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond. They couldn’t predict that Severus would turn on them and that their plan would go so wrong. All their hard work meant nothing if people kept dying. The thoughts wore heavily on Harry. His shoulders dropped. “Don’t you ever get tired of fighting Ron?”

“No.” And that was the end of that because Ron pushed himself off the wall and was walking back to the center of the room. Severus had returned with a brighter Draco. The young man practically gleamed. Harry hated to think what Severus could’ve said or done that made Malfoy so happy.

“We’ll start with dancing lessons.” Severus gestured to Draco. “Have your pick.”

Draco wasted no time. He strode over to Harry, took the man’s hand into his own and gave it a gentle kiss. He bowed deeply in front of the Debutante, offering a coy smile that looked too youthful on his lined face. “I would be honored to take this dance.”

Harry didn’t respond but Ron’s throat clearing explained his feeling. He let Draco lead him onto the dance floor. Draco rested a hand on Harry’s hip. It felt like a dead weight. Music began from somewhere – a strained melody on violin. They started to move and …

“Ah!” Harry shouted out. The last time he had to waltz was in fourth year and he was sure this was not how it was done. “Would you mind not stepping on my feet next time?”

“You’ll forgive me dear Debutante,” he drawled like his father. Harry wanted to do something, anything, to put Draco in his place. “But I’m sure that the Death Eater is the one to lead. You go forward and I go back.”

If he didn’t think it would start anything, Harry would happily spit in his face.

* * *

 

“Gorgeous night, isn’t it?”

Severus and Harry stared up through the glass dome. The stars were out that night, constellations and moonlight filling the room with a heavenly glow. The baths, located on the top floor of the tower, were expansive and sparsely furnished. Only a few bronze pools set into marble. The glass dome remained unsteamed even though hot water gushed forward into the baths. The view of the night sky was lovely. Severus’s eyes went up to have a look while pushing his robes off, letting them fall to the floor. He climbed into the bath and let water rush over his form.

“Are you going to come in or will you just stand there?”

Harry disposed of his clothing and dipped his feet into the water. Once he was comfortable, he slipped all the way into the tub. He sat opposite of the Szajha, still awkward with the idea of touching his ex-professor. They sit silent for a few moments, relishing the feeling of bubbling water lapping at exposed skin.

The peace was broken too soon. “Do you and Draco get along well?” asked Severus.

Harry eased himself deeper into the water. “It’s complicated. Our fighting during school seems childish now, but we fought. You should know. You saw the way we were. During the later years I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t some sexual tension.” He looked at his hands underneath the water. “I don’t know. It’s all very strange.” He looked at Severus with suspicious eyes. “Why do you care?”

“It’s nothing.” And he waved the entire conversation away with a flip of his hand.

The room was silent once more. Harry made a quiet, annoyed sound that got lost between the water and the steam. He tried to settle himself better, but ended up slipping closer to Severus. His heart sped up some at the lack of space. Severus closed his eyes. Harry watched as the man’s nose wiggled some at the heavy scent of the baths. An eye popped open, looked at the space between them and shut again.

“Be decisive Potter.”

Out of anger or maybe something else, Harry splashed his way over to sit next to Severus. He regretted the action as soon as he sat because they were so close. He could smell Severus’s heavy clove and lavender scent over the gentle honey lemon of the bath. Severus made no comment, but Harry did see the way the Szajha looked at him. He felt shivers down his spine and he was sure it wasn’t from the cold. Severus, sensing Harry’s discomfort, took it one step further. The older man leaned in close and let slender brown fingers drift across Harry’s chest, idly teasing flesh as he went. Harry shot up, putting distance between the two of them.

“Don’t you fucking dare try anything with me.”

Severus laughed or did something like it. “You’re a terrible actor.” He extended a hand. “Come back over here Potter. You’re doing a terrible job of looking disgusted.” Harry knitted together eyebrows and considered his options before slipping back to Severus’s side.

“Aren’t you supposed to be Voldemort’s little pet? What does it look like if you’re rubbing up on me?”

“You belong to him too,” replied Severus. “We all do. It doesn’t matter much if two of his pets have something for themselves.”

“I’m sure Alysaundre had the same logic when he began sleeping with Maxime.” Harry couldn’t imagine a punishment worse than the Dementor’s kiss but he knew Voldemort would think of something. “You don’t really think we could ever be together, do you? I still hate you and you only want to fuck me because of my mum.” It was Harry’s turn to laugh but his laughter was mirthless. “I’m not going to do that. I’m better than a side piece.”

Severus’s face showed little as he leaned in and pressed a kiss against Harry’s lips. There wasn’t fireworks like it was with Ginny or Cho, and it didn’t have that warm feeling like he got with Ron. It was something deeper and more sensual. Harry felt his body being pressed against cool copper. A hand gripped his hair and Severus’s wet mouth dipped to his neck. His eyes remained open as Severus continued. He made no move to push the man away, but he couldn’t help but feel a little revolted.

Severus pulled away, dark eyes hooded and full of lust. “Someday I’ll have you to myself. You won’t have time to give me backtalk Potter because the only noises you’ll be making will be of pleasure.” He leaned back, face full of smug victory. “Tom will let me have what I want. If I want to fuck you, I’ll have you in my bed, tied and with a note.”

Harry, with all his bravery and justice, felt ill but would not let Severus had this one. To be completely unmanned by a kiss was a sorry way to lose. He swallowed his disgust and pushed himself forward, slamming his lips against Snape’s. Severus made no noise of surprise. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, conjuring images of attractive wizards to make this experience less horrifying. He slowed himself, trying to make it more sensual. The sexier it felt the more he was winning. He tugged himself away and nearly gagged at the sight of Severus with swollen, red lips and dilated pupils. He gagged to think of how he looked.

Severus did nothing to show that he was defeated. The man merely adjusted his sitting. Looking to Harry with empty eyes, he said, “Pass me a bar of soap. The baths do have a purpose.”

* * *

 

“Don’t go back to the other Debutantes tonight,” Severus yawned. He lifted up the covers of his bed and slipped between them. “Stay with me.”

Harry, still red and tingling from the events of the bath, was sure he should turn this down. He sat on the edge of the bed, pushing the comforter up around Severus.

“Tell me why you asked about Draco.” He was blunt, unwilling to be shaken by something as simple as a kiss. He tugged at a strand of Severus’s hair. Severus pulled the curl away from him. “You asked me if I got along well with him. Why does it matter?”

Severus lifted the covers up again and Harry eased in. He stayed a foot away from Severus at all times. He didn’t want their bodies to touch.

“In the near future, you’ll no longer be directly under my care,” Severus explained. “You’ll still be my responsibility – my Debutante always. You won’t live with the rest of the Debutantes though.” He paused for a moment, gauging Harry’s reaction. Harry must admit there is some relief.

“You’ll be sponsored, as all Debutantes are, by one of the Death Eaters. Your first and foremost allegiance will be to Lord Voldemort. If he calls, no matter what the circumstance, you must go. Your secondary allegiance…”

“Draco,” said Harry, understanding the significance of Draco’s interest in him. He wasn’t completely horrified with the idea. The sexual tension between the two of them had a lot of potential. He wondered where it could go if he let it continue.

“He can’t claim anything you don’t fully give him. It’s a contract – your services in return for protection and status until death. You won’t be Draco’s exclusively, of course. You belong to everyone. He’ll simply have top priority.” Severus yawned again, stretching limbs out, then faded into slumber.

Harry was left awake and alone.


	5. intellectualism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “One thing I certain,” he said. “As rough as you are, you will do magnificently as a Debutante.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know why I'm saying 'rewrite' when it's just a reimagining and renovation completely. I changed so much and I don't know what to list. Enjoy the changes as they come I guess?

There was a library on the fifth floor of the Fides Solarius, but after seeing the frosty marble the Debutantes found they preferred the warm tones of the Malfoy library. The green was off-putting but Gryffindors were able to swallow their pride once curled up in plush arm chairs and textured chaise lounges. There was a mini-bar of sorts near the center of the library with a large array of drinks. The young men passed around a bottle of firewhiskey to keep themselves warm.

Severus sat in the center of the congregation. His nose was lost between the pages of a book – “Formal Education and The Dark Art”, a study by Igor Karkaroff. He underlined a few sentences with a quill, brows furrowed in concentration. He fidgeted only some – today’s outfit was constricting and reminding Harry of his old robes. It’s a plain black thing that threatened to harm if Severus even attempted to slouch. Even his hair was pulled into a severe bun at the nape of his neck.

Harry pulled eyes away and set them back on his book. The last thing he wanted is to be caught staring.

Ron sat next to Harry, legs tossed over the side of the chair and grumbling as he skimmed through Quidditch magazine. He muttered curses under his breath as he flipped through the pages. Harry had no doubt it was another Chudley Cannons defeat.

“Who won the league cup?” Harry whispered.

“The Falmouth Falcons again,” Ron said, tossing the magazine aside. “They’re brutal, that bunch.” He leaned to see what Harry was reading. “And what about you? Is the evolution of sexuality in the wizarding world captivating?”

Harry stifled laughter. “It’s so enlightening. Did you know that in Merlin’s day brooms were charmed to work as vibrators? And to think we’re just using rubber?” The two boys fell into silent laughter, barely keeping themselves from exclaiming.

They fall into silence with few interruptions from Harry and Ron as they shared interesting passages from their respective books.

“You may put your books away,” Severus stated, setting aside his own volume. “The purpose of this next exercise is to teach you how to engage others in conversation. A Debutante should be intellectually stimulating and cultured. You must be well informed on everything from modern music to history. The most important of these topics is politics.”

“Politics?” Ron asked. “You want war survivors to talk about politics to the people that screwed them over?”

“Debutantes have an active political role,” Severus said. It was clear that he was ignoring most of everything Ron was saying. _Of course he is_ , Harry thought. _Why question things when you were on the winning side of the war?_ “But this is not the time or place to discuss that. Would anyone like to share what they read?”

“I read about this Muggle author, Mr. Edgar Allen Poe. He’s really dreary and he wrote a lot of horror, but he’s a huge deal for the Muggles,” said Colin. He sat up on his knees, book balanced on his thighs. There was a sort of reverence in his eyes. “He’s quite fascinating really. Sort of macabre.”

Severus nodded his approval. “Very interesting Mr. Creevy, but we must keep in mind that we are living in a very tense time in terms of Muggles. Perhaps a book by a wix next time hmm?”

“Who’s to say he wasn’t he a wizard? He speaks like one most times and his creatures seem fantastical.”

Snape put up a hand. “A Debutante never argues a point.” Colin went red in the face. “Though we must strive to keep our tone calm and sweet, your enthusiasm must be praised.”

“However enthusiasm, no matter how charming, will not bring you a sponsor.”

Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, proud even with gaunt face and empty eyes. Severus rose to his feet and smoothed out unseen wrinkles on his robe. He pushed invisible loose strands of hair back from his face. Severus curtsied as an afterthought remembering Lucius’s position of as a Death Eater.

“You look more the Ravenclaw, dear Severus,” Lucius commented. Steel eyes traveled up and down the Szajha’s form. “Tucked away in my library, nose in a book. It’s not place for a Szajha. You were created for the bedroom. Formed for the sole purpose of having a man spread you out underneath him…”

“Lucius, I don’t believe you will ever have that pleasure,” Severus stated. His face remained placid but there was humor in his eyes. Lucius looked flustered for a moment, not knowing what to say to Severus. In their Hogwarts days and even the hazy years following, he could tame Severus with a biting word. The tables have turned and Severus outranked him both as a Death Eater and as the Szajha.

“I’ve come to call on you, Severus. Your presence is requested at an informal celebration tonight. Just a couple of friends and a few bottles of wine.”

“You make it sound so innocent, Lucius.” Severus remained acidic as he spoke. “I don’t like playing games. If you want something, take it.”

“You cannot tempt me, Severus.”

“Can’t I?”

* * *

 

Following trend, Severus called Harry into his chambers that evening. Harry almost considered turning the invitation down, but curiosity won out over revulsion. He wished to see Severus’s rooms again, to see his former teacher sit in front of a mirror painting his face and preparing himself like some upheld surgeon preparing for the gory task. Harry supposed sleeping with murderers and torturers and monsters could be considered a gory task. Still he held no sympathy within himself. He, instead, stood in front of Severus’s door, knocking and praying that he changed his mind.

Sweet dream was dashed at the sound of Severus’s low tones. “Come in Potter.”

Harry’s eyes were drawn to Severus. The man sat at his vanity, primping himself with steady hand and trained eye. The jewels that trimmed his eyelids caught the light of the candles. The sight temporarily blinded Harry, ripping all breath from his body. When sight and sense returned to Harry, Severus stood in front of him. The older wizard blotted carmine lips off on a handkerchief, bottomless orbs set on Harry with an unnamable expression.

For a confusing moment, Harry thought to toss Severus on the bed and have his way with him. It struck him then how destructive this whole experience has been. He was considering relief in the arms of a cruel childhood force. Harry found himself envying the boorish masculinity of the Death Eaters. They, with their vicious intentions and unfeeling hearts, would think nothing of dominating the Szajha. Harry was no fool. Spells and potions could cover purling bruises and bitten lips, but could not erase the emptiness blackness of Severus’s eyes. He wasn’t vicious enough for Severus and had no intentions of fulfilling the violent fantasies that he thought pranced around in the Szajha’s head.

“You’ll be coming with me to a party tonight Potter,” Severus spoke, finally. His eyes moved from Harry to a container of jewelry. He fastened a choker around his neck. “It’s a good opportunity to present you, informally, to the public world. The first coming out of Harry Potter the Debutante. How does that sound to you?”

It wasn’t a question. Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. What does ‘coming out’ entail?”

“Nothing really,” he compared earrings and settled on simple diamonds. “You recall your lessons? You’ll curtsy and pay your respects.”

Harry nodded in slight confirmation.

“There will be light conversation. Popular pastimes, various acquaintances, politics – all parlor room talk and gossip. I’m sure even you can manage that.” Severus wiggled into a set of bangles then took them off. He gave a critical look to a thin gold arm band in the shape of snake. He slipped it on. “Popular pastimes are a safe area, but if you are unable to be kind for just a few hours then, please, stay silent. You are never to engage in conversation about acquaintances. It’s not a Debutante’s place to pass judgement or to make enemies. And for my sake if not your own, do not delve into politics. You haven’t had enough training and I don’t trust you enough to let you go into law with a room full of Death Eaters. It would be my luck that you said the wrong thing to the wrong person and then it’s me that must clean up your mistake.”

All is silent for a moment save for the jangle of jewelry and the swish of fabric. “If anyone asks you for a dance, accept the offer. If anyone tries to touch you intimately, you do not make a fuss about it. Motion discreetly and it will be taken care of. I will be watching you the whole evening. There is nothing that should scare you too much.”

 _Me? Scared? In a room full of people who’ve made it their job to kill me? Oh no, not me._ Harry couldn’t keep the sour look off his face. Severus responded by nudging him to the paper partition.

“This will be an educational experience for you Potter. I daresay I managed to teach you potions. Hopefully you’ll learn etiquette and social cues quicker than Legillimancy.” Severus tugged on the frayed hem of the dressing gown Harry wore. “I can’t let you go to this thing dressed like a pauper. Stay still. I think I have something.”

Severus strode over to his wardrobe and dug through. He, himself, was dressed in an almost romantic midnight blue robe that borders on a gown. In the back there’s a bustle made of silk flowers. It would’ve looked better on anyone but Severus, but Harry figured that was just his hatred talking.

The Szajha finally pulls out something. A garish mass of crimson taffeta that officially crossed the border between robe and dress. Severus pushed the gown into his arms. “Get dressed. I still have to do your hair and makeup. I don’t wish to be too late.”

Harry took the monstrosity into the mini-changing room. It reminded him of the pavilion in a way. It was a very small space enclosed by white curtains and lit by paper lanterns. A full length mirror hovers near the center, revolving around Harry and giving frequent compliments to form and face. Harry undressed quickly, throwing nightwear into a pile in the corner. The gown was hard to get into – there were these tiresome little buttons and laces in the front. The skirt was full enough and Harry supposed he rather liked all this freedom.

Harry scooted out of the changing room. Severus was in the middle of his chambers, considering shoes. Harry cleared his throat. The Szajha jerked up his head and in that moment all movements ceased. Harry has always felt judged by Severus, but this time the eyes that examined him felt calmer and less critical. There was some warmth in the way that Severus looked at him. A shiver went up his spine. He couldn’t be sure it was from the chill.

“You look … passable.”

The compliment, though strained and barbed, was still a compliment. “Thank you,” Harry said. Severus beckoned for him to come over and Harry moved to perch himself on the bench in front of the vanity. He reached over and picked up a hairbrush – silver and engraved with a message Harry couldn’t make out. He muttered an incantation and began to brush Harry’s hair. The strokes were strangely gentle. Harry barely noticed as he was attempting to read the inscription. Finally, the light catches it in the right way and he is able to make out the words:

_Beauty is a form of genius – is higher, indeed, than genius, as it needs no explanation. It is of the great facts in the world like sunlight, or springtime, or the reflection in dark water of the silver shell we call the moon._

The quote was attributed to Oscar Wilde, a muggle author. Harry felt smug that he knew that. He had little time to gloat to himself. His attentions were pulled to the ornate V, scripted in ebony. His breath caught in his throat. Of course it was a love present from Severus’s greatest lover. He pulled eyes away and settled them on his reflection in the mirror. From his position, he only saw the rounded oval of his face. He felt Severus’s brush move away and Harry braced himself for pain. He was surprised not to feel a harsh tug of pain. The brush went right through.

Oh. What Severus has done struck him like a slap. His hair, his crown of dark curls, was replaced for silken locks that flowed like water down to his waist. He felt violated. The makeup, the feminine dress, the entire concept of Debutante work– all of that was fine. Easy and delightful even. But his hair? A choked sound rose from his throat.

“What did you do that for? I was fine with it the way it was!” There was anger in his tone.

“I know you were,” Severus’s eyes meet his in the mirror. “You were fond of your natural hair, but you must listen to me. We live in a poisonous world Potter. The first set of Debutantes were all-white with the sole exception of Maxime. How do you think the Wizarding World feels, hmm?” Harry made no noise to show he was listening. “A Pakistani Szajha and a rainbow of Debutantes. You’re the first black one they’ll see.”

“You didn’t have to change my hair.” There were tears in Harry’s voice and eyes. “You didn’t have to change me.”

Severus slipped his fingers through the now silken hair. “Trust me. They will accept you better like this. You are edible with straight hair.” He reached for his makeup kit. “I contour to lighten my skin and shrink my nose. You straighten your hair.” Severus raised the jar of foundation. “Besides, the makeup washes off and the spell wears off after a couple of hours.”

Severus used the heel of his hand to wipe away Harry’s tears. “It is worth it in the end. I swear it.”

Harry took deep breaths. Anger rushed through him still. “Is it? Is it worth it when the best you get is some slurs thrown at you?” Harry said, voice raising. “Lucius treated you like some … some dog to be bred and used by all of them. How do you even manage to get up and do this? You used to be a potions master. You were a teacher and you helped people. You’ve been demoted!”

“No,” and it comes out of Severus’s mouth with a strict finality. “You consider this to be demeaning for me? God, no, Potter. If I got all my gratification from torturing children, why, I’d be a monster.” He began in on Harry’s face. “There is some victory in knowing that every wizard and witch in the Wizarding World wants you.” An emotionless hum followed. “Even more knowing you can turn them all way.”

“He made you sound like a wh-“

Severus held up a hand. He lowered it to apply more makeup and tweak weaker spots. “You will soon find that different members of the public hold very different opinions of the Debutantes.” He used both brush and pen to adjust Harry’s lips. “Some opinions are more hostile – and bigoted – than others.” He stood back and appraised his work.

“One thing I certain,” he said. “As rough as you are, you will do magnificently as a Debutante.”

* * *

 

The thing that got Harry the most upon entering the party was that he recognized everyone there. Old school mates turned war criminals and savage beasts. There were a lot of newly inducted Death Eaters. Marcus Flint, Gregory Goyle and others whose names slipped his mind. Blaise Zabini was among their numbers but something about the way he held himself denied all affiliation to the Death Eaters.

Lucius Malfoy, of course, was among with some of the elder Death Eaters. Harry recognized their faces too. He recalled fighting against many of them, wand raised with intentions of maim and kill. He named them all – Antonin, Bellatrix, Rastaban, Rodolphus, Augustus, Pious. To name them was to have power over them and to dominate them. He saw their crimes and their vicious murders. He saw the blood underneath their nails.

Harry does not miss that Draco was missing from the celebrations.

Severus wasted no time. He strode over to Lucius Malfoy, all blue and bad intentions, and curtsied. “Sir, I am honored at your invitation…”

“Don’t bother with the formalities, Severus,” said Lucius, voice full of impatience and held glass overflowing with champagne. “How long have we known each other? Once you’ve battled side by side with someone, the need to bow and recite becomes … gauche.”

“Merely following protocol, sir,” Severus replied. He acknowledged the rest of the Death Eaters with a nod. They returned the gesture with an added, “Good evening, Szajha.”

“Did you ask me here tonight for a special purpose, or am I allowed to drink and dance as I please?” Slender fingers play with the silver buttons of Lucius’s robe. Harry’s face grew hot as Severus traced the engraved etches on the metal.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Szajha,” Lucius sighed, feigning ennui. Anyone with eyes could see how he stiffened when Severus so much as breathed on him. “I called you here to discuss Draco’s sponsorship. He seems to be taken by one of your Debutantes.” Lucius glanced at Harry and the man’s first reaction to recoil. “I, of course, objected to it at first….”

“Of course you did,” Severus muttered under his breath.

“But if _my_ Draco wishes to sponsor a Debutante, he shall have a Debutante. I want to finalize all temporary agreements here and now. We can deal with the final agreements later on.”

“Reasonable requests,” Severus stated. There was no surprise on his face. He had seen this move coming from the moment Draco laid eyes on Harry. “Very well. We shall take care of that tonight.”

“Providing that it suits the tastes of the Debutante. Of course.”

Harry nearly leaped into the air at the high and clear voice that came from behind him. He’s sure his shoulders went up and he made great effort to bring them down. He turned to see that the Dark Lord had been watching his exchange. Lord Voldemort, if anyone, looked quite amused by Harry’s spiked heartbeat. His lips were set in an amused smile, and his hands were clasped behind his back.

The small group of Death Eaters, and Szajha and Debutante, go from gossiping bunch to reverent worshippers. The Death Eaters bow and place their kisses. Harry followed afterwards with a curtsy. The Szajha waited until they are done to respond.

“Naturally, my Lord,” said Severus, sliding into a deep curtsy. With head still bent low, Lord Voldemort gently brushes away loose hairs from the Szajha’s face, cupping the sharp chin in the palm of his hand. It both fascinated and revolted Harry how salacious and intimate they could be in such a public setting. Severus rose to his feet and entwined his finger with the Dark Lord’s.

When Voldemort caught sight of Harry, his eyebrow arched. He was under the impression that the Debutante was one of the other – Justin or perhaps Colin. He paused for a moment, looking over the pond of followers, before speaking.

“Are you agreeable to this proposition, Harry?”

Harry flinched some at his name coming from Voldemort’s mouth. “I don’t know yet.” The sharp look Severus sent him promised whatever passed as punishment. He couldn’t fit his mouth and mind around calling Voldemort Lord anything. He swallowed pride for just a moment. “I’m undecided, my Lord.”

“Lucius, if I may borrow our young hero for a moment?” The request was kindness. Everyone knew that Lucius was whipped and parties like these were just masks to hide the real damage.

The Malfoy patriarch said nothing. Lord Voldemort took it as a yes.

* * *

 

Voldemort led him to a spare chamber adjoining the ballroom. From inside the square space, Harry could hear music and the gushing of fountains. The room reeked of Malfoy with the sheer amount of green and black and silver. It was also very chemical and sterile. On the far wall was a series of curtains that blocked out the next room.

Voldemort tugged them aside and lead Harry into the inner chamber.

A bed. The only piece of furniture contained within the curtains was a bed. Harry couldn’t lie. It was a nice bed. Four poster with platinum serpents dancing up the posts and meeting in a nest at the headboard. A soft, feathery fabric covered the mattress. Voldemort sat on the edge of the covers, unbuttoning his dark coat and easing it off his covers.

It occurred to him then that Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, has led him into a bedroom.

Panic built in him. His heart was beating and drumming away. He’s never been alone with Voldemort. Not ever. There was always someone there to protect him or save him to change things. It was just the two of them now. In a private little room within a room. He wanted to die or maybe melt or maybe just go back with the other Debutantes. He wanted to be with Ron and talk about Quidditch. This was too much, it was …

“What do you want, Harry?”

The question threw him. Not just because it came from Voldemort’s lips but because he really didn’t know what he wanted. Harry supposed a life with Draco as a sponsor would be fine. He’d still be living in Malfoy Manor, but he’d always know his friends are close. He took a seat next to Voldemort. God, he was close to tears. A heavy lump formed in his throat.

“Severus mentioned this sponsorship thing. I think I want it. I don’t want to be owned by anyone but I know that in this day and age to be free is to be dead. You get nothing if someone bigger, richer and more important isn’t holding your leash.” Harry watched as Voldemort unbuttoned his boots and removed his left one.

“Draco’s pretty rich and pretty important.”

The other boot came off. Voldemort reclined on the bed, red eyes still trained on Harry. “What else has Severus mentioned?” He took out his wand – elder, naturally – and whispered a little spell. The tip burned as Voldemort waved the wand about the room. A very heavy sensation settled over Harry. The scent of vanilla smothered the room, forcing Harry to relax. Voldemort set his wand aside, safe out of Harry’s reach.

_Vanilla is a potent aphrodisiac._

“You are quite tempting,” Voldemort said, face pulling into a parody of a smile. He still seemed so snakelike even with the Horcruxes affect taken away. Slender fingers played the crimson of the gown. “I can see why the young Malfoy would be interested in you.” His expression became quite serious. “I must be mindful of who claims you. Your sponsorship will be a famous one. Whoever gets you will be dealing with celebrity. The lover to The Boy Who Lived must be prepared to deal with all posturing and posing. We can’t have you living on your own terms Harry. People might get ideas.”

Harry was wordless until the fingers grazed against his flesh. His thoughts turned to running, to bucking. Arousal and fear compete. He’s not sure what will win. Something in him made him lean back. The Dark Lord leaned over him and pressed a gentle, if not cold, kiss to his neck. Arousal was playing dirty, and gave fear a horrible kick in the groin. It seemed fear was out for the count.

“You’re quite adaptable Harry. I do enjoy a fair loser when I see one.” The cold lips continue on their war path, travelling up and down Harry’s neck to stop near his collarbone. “You submit quite well.”

It was silent after that save for the occasional smack of the lips against skin. Harry lay like a statue, still and confused. When Voldemort stopped, he hover above Harry. Harry knew he was considering his options. Take Potter here or leave him be? Dominate or let the rabbit flee?

“Leave,” said the Dark Lord. “Go. Go back to Severus.”

There was not a moment of hesitation. Harry all but leaped off the bed. Before he left, Voldemort took his arm in his icy grip. “You’ll see me again soon enough.” A soft but dominating kiss was placed onto his lips. Harry stayed for as long as he could manage. As soon as their lips parted, he dashed off, leaving Voldemort, and his vanilla, alone.


	6. sexuality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Draco fucking Malfoy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *stops sniggering at the summary for a moment to give you guys the details* alright so I don't know why she hated Ron so much? Like what did the poor kid ever do to her! I've changed so much, but mostly Ron and Harry and Neville and just how the Debutantes act. They're more victims of war and companions than "Harry and the Other Ones".
> 
> That sounds like a band. Someone make a band called Harry and the Other Ones.

“Are you concerned about what the other Debutantes think of you?”

He and Harry lie in bed together, watching a candle flicker tempestuously in the early morning draft. After last night’s events, Harry spent the rest of the evening attached to Severus’s side. Except for the few dances he shared, Harry did not leave. The former potions teacher was not exactly pleased by this, but he didn’t force Harry away either. Potter can’t say he wasn’t grateful for it. He didn’t much like the idea of being cornered by Lord Voldemort again.

“Of course I do,” said Harry. “They’re my friends. I care if they hate me.” He paused. “I’m sure they don’t.”

The spell on Harry’s hair had almost worn off and he absentmindedly scratched at it. The texture was back to normal in some places, but in others it remained straight. He hoped the spell would be gone by the time he had to go back.

“You’re maturing differently than them,” Severus commented. “The war has weakened you all, but I see you healing quicker than them.” He shifted his gaze over to Harry. “Or you’re just better at hiding wounds.” A brown hand eased from his side and touched the still silky part of Harry’ hair. “It’s not a bad skill to have. You’ll get further without the self-pity. People hate to see a miserable Debutante.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t feel as if he was healing any faster than his friends. He had nightmares and terrors still. Shadowy monsters still lurked in his mind. The difference was that he woke up in sweats and some of the others woke up screaming.

“What are we going to be working on today?” Harry changed the subject. He didn’t like where the other was headed.

“Today is reserved for relaxation.” Severus curled a lock around his fingers. “Refreshments at one and Mattox will be designing your evening wear for the Cockatrice at three.” Harry does not hide his disdain for the name. Severus continued on. “He’s hard to swallow at first but you’ll adapt to him eventually. The evening is for additional training.

There was no doubt in Harry’s mind what ‘additional training’ mean. Skin tingled and grew clammy at what it would entail.

“I suppose it’s time for summons.” Severus pulled on a cord hanging over his bed. In this distance a bell was heard. Harry sat up on the bed, hating the idea of being accused of doing anything lewd with Severus. The Szajha did not miss the action but did not comment on it either.

The door was eased open. Ron, the eldest among the group when Harry was away, led the pack in. He wasn’t red with anger, but he wasn’t calm. Blue eyes flickered over to Harry sitting on the Szajha’s bed. Ron’s brows furrowed in confusion. Harry gave him a look that promised to explain all later. The rest of the Debutantes – Neville, Colin, Justin and Seamus – took places on the grey seating. Ron took a seat and Harry followed after him, shoulders bumping into each other after being separated for far too long.

When all Debutantes were seated, Severus spoke. “There will be refreshments after noon. Until then, amuse yourselves. I’m sure some free time is appreciated.”

“Is that it then?” Seamus said. “No training today?”

“Later on Mr. Finnigan. Later on.”

* * *

“Stylish,” Ron said. He twisted the few strands of straight hair left on a finger. “Is that what you guys do together? Fix your hair?” Harry gave him a little jab with his elbow. “So what happened last night? You were gone forever.”

Harry leaned in. “Well, Lucius had invited Severus to a party and he wanted me to ‘come out’ informally or something. It was all pretty strange. Lots of Death Eaters were there.” He wished he had brought some food back for the others but he knew it wouldn’t look refined. “There was a lot of food and wine. Oh! The Dark Lord was there. He pulled me into this room. I thought he was going to shag me but he must’ve changed his mind.”

“You sound disappointed,” said Ron, voice full of mischief. “Were you hoping to?”

“No!” His face was pulled into a smile. “Okay, but that’s not even the craziest part. So there are these things called sponsorships where you get, like, bonded to a Death Eater or whatever. You know who wants to sponsor me?”

Ron shook his head but the interest was there. “Who?”

“Draco fucking Malfoy.”

Ron was about to shout but covered his mouth quickly before the sound escaped. “You’re kidding me. You have to messing with me!”

“I’m not! He wasn’t there, but his dad asked me if I was interested.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him I didn’t know yet.” Harry looked at his hands. “I mean I’d live here still and I’d be close to you.”

“Who’s to say I won’t be sponsored? I’ll be living in the Lestrange manor before long.”

Harry jabbed him again. “Stop kidding around. I’m serious Ron.” His voice grew solemn. “I’m scared about this. I’m scared about everything really. Just before you all came in Severus was telling me that I had ‘great potential’ and a bunch of other rot. I don’t think I want to have anything ‘great’ in this.”

“Well I would prefer you’d be ‘great’ in this than miserable as a war prisoner. It could be so much worse than this.”

Sitting on his bed still was the Szajha, sipping tea and taking notes. Once or twice he’d pick a Debutante and jot something down. Harry felt observed. “Yeah. I guess it could be.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Harry,” Ron said. “Still don’t want you spending so much time around Snape.”

Harry didn’t respond because his train of thought was cut off by a sharp knock of the door.

“Come in.” Aquarius pushed the door open with his foot. He balanced a tray of food – actual food – in his hands. There was some slight excitement in the Debutantes. All they’ll eaten were chocolates and candies and fruit on the rare occasion. To see plates laden with eggs and meat and toast. Hungry eyes and hands reached for the food, happy to be eating something filling. Once the tray was empty, he sat it down on the nearest table and wiped hands off of his tunic.

“Szajha, Mattox just wanted to confirm that his appointment was at three.”

The Debutantes all grimaced at the name, full mouths holding frowns. They ate but the distaste was palpable and soured their food. Aquarius hid a smile behind his hands. He remembered the Debutantes unpleasant first meeting with Mattox. The young man held no fondness for him either and thought him insufferable.

Severus nodded, eyes shifting back to his notes.

“Eat well. We move to the Acca Larentia in an hour and a half.”

* * *

  
As promised, Mattox arrived at three. He came into the Acca Larentia followed by a swarm of Venustians. Though he himself was empty-handed, the Venustians were carried with them fabrics and jewels. Chests of tools were brought in two at a time and set up in random corners. Mattox gave Severus a hasty bow, eager to start work on the Debutantes.

“A pleasure as always, Szajha,” he said, voice trilling. “I truly am honored to be designed the Debutantes evening wear for the Cockatrice Bacchanalia.” The Debutantes collectively wrinkled up their noses. He took a step forward and inspected them all, taking notes of assets and weaknesses. He waved a Venustian forward and was brought a Quick-Note Quill and a few sheets of parchment. Mattox started to dictate designs, starting with Justin.

“Neutral wool,” he said and another Venustian handed him a piece of the fabric. Mattox set it against Justin’s skin. “Yes, that will do nicely. We’ll use silk chemise and then the overcoat in neutral wool. The overcoat should be in classic empire style – gathered at the waist, flaring out. You know the type. Whoever’s in charge of this take note.” Said Venustian grabbed a piece of parchment and followed along. “He looks rather virginal. Like an untouched and unmolested lily. The cream shall be the only spot of color, I think. This one, Szajha, he is very virtuous, no?”

“They’re all virtuous.” Severus watched with only some distraction. He pulled a cigarette from its case, lit it and took in a long, luxurious drag. Harry couldn’t help considering how Debauched he looked. He tore away his gaze. “But I supposed Mr. Finch-Fletchley is exceptionally, hm, sweet.”

Justin made a nothing noise at being called ‘sweet’ by Snape. The other Debutantes caught it but luckily Mattox did not. “We’ll really want to stress that sweetness then. Glamorous, tempting but pure as the Virgin herself.” The Venustian followed close behind him, taking note. “I want white roses on the back. Pearls too if you can manage it. Diamonds on the front for a bit of glamour. Feel free to get as gauche as you wish. It’ll all look delicate on this one.” Mattox took the Quick-Note Quill into his hand then, looking over the notes. “Alright. Next.”

And then Justin was pushed to the back as Colin Creevy took his place.

They continued on like that for a while. Mattox would give orders and take his notes, tearing the Debutantes apart in some places and building them up in others. Colin was deemed “sugary sweet, but a bit too small” and Neville was “tall with killer legs, but a smidge full in the arse”. To compliment Neville’s ‘fullness’, he was designed a robe that looked like he was wearing the night sky. (“I thought to do brown but imagine how that arse would look covered in the constellations.”) Mattox took one look at Ron and decided that he was “fiery as Hades itself” and gave Ron the Gryffindor color – red and gold. Seamus was fiery too, but Mattox described him as “the smoldering, sexy kind of fiery. More coal than flame.”

“Hm, Harry Potter.”

And then it was Harry’s turn. Mattox walked around him, quiet as he pressed gloved hands onto Harry’s skin. There was much anticipation. The other Debutantes mattered and held great importance, but he was the wizarding world savior. Everyone would peek to see what the great Harry Potter was wearing. Harry crossed him arms, not liking being picked apart.

“You are the most beautiful by far.” Mattox frowned. “White. I want him in white.” The Venustians started to take their notes again. “White draping, something metal to give it that Roman look I want.” Mattox seemed hesitant, almost afraid of his decisions.

“The color of the metal?” A Venustian asked.

“Gold. We’re going to do white and gold, and see how we like that.” He picked up another scroll and began sketching some tentative designs. “Simple shift, almost Grecian. No train. A cape attached to the shoulders though. I want everything to be simple. No flourishes except for that gold. No gemstones – he doesn’t need any.” And Harry stood there like a mannequin in a shop window, somewhat embarrassed by being admired and watched like this. He mostly felt a little revered. He supposed he’s been revered all his life but this was not a pressuring sort of reverence that demanded anything. It was calm and kind and built just off of his beauty. He understood what it meant to be the centerpiece of an empire.

“Yes, that should do nicely.”

* * *

  
When evening had wrapped Malfoy manor in shadows and gas lights, the Debutantes were led back into Severus’s bedroom. They took their respective seating, curling up on pillows as sleep threatened to take them away. Severus perched himself in front of his vanity, hair pulled away and hidden by a wrap. His face was clear of makeup and he looked more like their teacher than any Szajha.

“I mentioned before that you would have to be well-trained in the art of sexual gratification. It’s a very vital point of your training. Considering the Bacchanalia is in just under a week, I thought to give you some more lessons. Just to be safe.” Severus spoke distractedly. He was working cream into his face and hands as he prepared for bed.

The Debutantes remained silent. The embarrassment from just a few days ago had faded away. They were mature enough to accept their position, but still there was some worry.

“Potter,” Severus said. Harry came forward, thinking how he was starting to hate being singled out.

Harry knew what Severus wanted him to do. He swallowed pride and sank to his knees before Severus. If he was going to be made to do this, he was going to do it with dignity. Harry worked with quick hand to move aside the robe and pull Severus’s erection from his clothes. He felt his friends’ eyes on him, but he felt no shame.  He refuses to debase himself, refuses to put himself panting in front of Severus. That was the Debutantes role, yes? Look graceful and noble while sucking dick?

Defiant eyes look up into Severus’s as Harry ran his hand up and down the length of Severus’s cock. He stuck out his tongue and teased the flesh. Severus sat, unamused but hardening, as Harry played with him. It angered Harry some that he wasn’t able to draw anything out of Severus but disdain. He tried a little harder, taking Severus’s whole length into his mouth and then … he choked. Gagged more like and almost retched.

“Honestly, Potter,” Severus said, pushing Potter away from his dick. “A pitiful attempt. You know you don’t have to take the whole thing into your mouth.”

Harry stumbled back and landed on his ass with a huff. “I’m sure it’s extremely easy for you.”

Severus glared him down before continuing. “Learn to tease. I know you’re used to be brash and fast, but the difference between being the Gryffindor bike and a Debutante is the element of sensual. Take your time. Be slow and graceful. Less lion and more panther. Do you understand or shall I make it simpler?”

Harry nodded, throat still raw. “Can I catch my breath?”

Severus made a gesture of confirmation. “Come sit near me.” Harry made his way over to sit near Severus’s vanity. “Look among your classmates. If there is one you had to have, who would it be?”

Harry was no child. He got the intention the minute the words left Severus’s mouth.

“Ron. I’d choose Ron.”

Ron went red in the face, horrified at being brought into this. He backed up some and shook his head. “Harry.”

“You should think of it as a compliment. The most promising of Debutantes wanting to bed you. Your friend no less.” Severus said.

“It’s not! He’s my friend, but I don’t want to do that with him. I don’t want that. No!”

Ron’s assertiveness was a relief. Harry felt as if he was taking this too easy and there Ron was, fighting for the both of them. Harry saw as Ron rose and made his way to leave when chilling words shocked him into stillness.

“Imperio.”

The room grew quiet and motionless. Severus sat there, hand extended and eyes squinted in concentration. Ron fought some against the spell, attempting to move his feet and break free from the curse.

“Mr. Weasley, come here immediately.”

Ron walked with stiff legs over to the Szajha’s vanity.

Harry always figured Severus was powerful enough to not need a wand, but it still startled him to see it in action. “You’re doing wandless magic. Does Voldemort know?”

“Debutantes aren’t allowed wands,” Severus stated. “I’m not allowed my wand either. English wizards are so foolish to believe that a wand is needed or even wanted. It just takes a little more effort. Don’t tell any of the Death Eaters that.” There was slight amusement in his tone. Enough that Harry understood what Severus meant. The Death Eaters loved the vision of the helpless Szajha and were quick to forget how powerful Severus really was. “Mr. Weasley, get onto the bed.”

Ron shook his head and mouthed his defiance. He still climbed onto the bed, resting his head down on one of the pillows.

“I don’t want this. I won’t take advantage of him like this.” Harry shot Severus a, hopefully, scathing look that showed all of his anger.

“I’m not expecting you to.”

  
  



	7. sexuality

“I can’t believe he dismissed us,” grumbled Justin.

The Debutantes were sent off to the room of Acca Larentia to sleep. Rest alluded them however and they spent their time waiting for Ron’s return. Severus dismissed them all, saying that Ron need “special and private instruction”. If Ron could cast the killing spell with his eyes, Severus would be sprawled out on his plush carpet. Harry was happy to be away from the noise and drama though his mind buzzed with worry for Ron. He hated the thought of Snape with his hands on his best friend.

“I’m glad he did,” Colin sat up in his pallet, supported by his elbows. “I’m still really creeped out by all this sexual stuff.” He wrinkled up his nose. “Plus I don’t really want to see Ron naked.”

“I wish you hadn’t brought it up, Harry,” Seamus said. He lay down in the mass of pillows, supported by his elbows.

“It's not Harry's fault. Snape was the one that made it weird,” said Colin, always on the defensive when it came to Harry. He lifted to his knees. “Professor was the one who asked the question.”

“Oh God. Please don't call him Professor, Colin. I don't think my stomach can handle it,” Neville said. He sat in a nest of bed linen, fingers twisting in a mass of pillow. “I can't bear to think of that monster who ruined potions for me doing anything _ vaguely _ sexual or I may actually vomit.”

Just a few years earlier Harry couldn't have imagined Neville fitting in as a Debutante. The boy was a complete antithesis to what a Debutante was meant to be. Docile, small and dainty, Neville was not. He still wasn't, but somehow this new and improved Neville made himself look more elegant than the rest of them. Harry watched as Neville moved in his makeshift nest of sheets. Though many seemed to think Harry would become “the Debutante” based off of his role in the war and his significance to the Dark Lord, but Harry knew that once the “public” got to meet Neville there would be no competition.

Harry was relieved.

“Merlin, I hate to even imagine what he's in there doing to Ron,” Colin said. He tried to remain serious but his face was pulled in a slight small. “I mean, can you even imagine?”

“I'm sure Harry can.” Justin this time. He gave his shoulders a little wiggle. “In great detail.”

Harry scoffed. “Please. If Ron’s lucky, Severus is just giving him a strict talking to.”

“A talking to?” Justin continued, brows raised in question. “I know you Gryffindors can be monsters in the sack, but Slytherins?” He fanned himself in mock arousal. “Harry would know how snakes are. Especially since a  _ particularly _ slimy one is easing up his --” Justin slithered to Harry’s side and walked his fingers up Harry’s thighs. Harry cut him off by hitting him with  a pillow.

“I don’t know you gents think I do in there with  _ him _ , but it doesn’t involve slithering up my legs.” 

Neville, interested in the conversation, shook his head. “We aren’t talking about Severus, Harry. We’re talking about the other snake in your pants.” The Debutantes fell into laughter. Neville stood to his feet, grabbed Seamus and pulled him up as he moved.

“Oh, my  _ Szajha _ , you must be  _ so honoured  _ to have such beeeaaauuty shaped under your fin _ gahs _ ,” teased Neville, drawing out his words and facial expressions to match Draco’s. He took Seamus hand, flipped it over and gave it a kiss. In return, Seamus faked a girlish swoon.

“Oh, oh, your words are too kind, sir!” Seamus said, batting his lashes then springing into Neville’s arm. “Take me, Draco. Take me now, or you’ll regret it forever!”

The room was filled with laughter. Even Harry could admit their meeting was laced with something other than disdain. Seamus and Neville fell into a heap, screaming out in glee. The mood was light and fun-filled until the door eased open, letting in a gust of cold wind. 

Ron stood in the doorway, face pale and ghostly. His hands shook as he held onto the frame. His body threatened to buckle under him. Frosted over eyes looked over all of them before settling on Harry. Harry blinked back his surprise, mouth open with shock.

“Ron?” The worry could not be held from his voice. He ran forward, extending his arms so Ron could fall into them. Ron collapsed, holding onto Harry’s robe with still trembling hands. The man took a few hard breaths before finally speaking.

“He wishes to see you.”

Harry’s brows furrow with anger. He signaled for one of the other Debutantes to come help. Two of them came while the other three stayed back. Neville took Ron into his arms, adjusting him so he could lead Ron to the pile of pillow. Once free of his friend, Harry turned his sights to the door. He made no sound as he slipped from the room, furious and rage-filled.

If the other three saw him, they didn’t ask questions. 

* * *

“What did you do to him?”

Harry’s voice was low as he stared Severus down. The older wizard lie on the bed, eyes up from a book he was reading. Severus closed the tome and set it to the side. “What are you accusing me of?”

“I don’t know yet,” Harry spat. “All I know is that Ron came back looking like  _ shit _ . I know it’s your fault. So what did you do to him?”

Severus hummed. “You heard me when I dismissed you all. Ron required additional training. He’ll never become a worthy Debutante with such a sour personality.”

Harry stormed through the room, grabbing one of the Szajha’s many glasses of perfume. He threw it against the wall, smashing it and leaving jasmine-scented stains.

“Now did that serve any purpose?” Severus extended his hand to repair the glass, and move it back to it’s place on the vanity. “Come to me.”

“I don’t want to see you, never mind be near you, any more,” Harry said, breathing hard. “You hurt my friend. You’re still the sadistic fuck you were as a teacher.”

“I suppose I am, but you don’t have many choices now do you? Stop being childish and come near me.”

Harry supposed he didn’t. He was a bit of bird in a gilded cage. The only thing caged birds could do was sing. Harry wasn’t singing, or surviving, very well. He stepped towards the Szajha, extending his hand so he could take it. Severus pulled him down onto the bed, wrapped long, brown arms around him. Harry settled back into the feeling.

All those years with Hogwarts as his home, fighting to make sure it was kept free and safe, seemed empty. A soldier who lost a war is no longer a soldier. He’s a loser, a failure. Harry imagined that if they had won the war, he’d be married to Ginny or maybe Ron. They’d be childless, miserable with their victory, and thinking always of the people they lost. He shook such thoughts away. It’s better like this. It could’ve been so much worse. He could be dead, dumped in some mass grave. 

This was nice. He was living in a mansion, with constant food and water and clothes, and constant company. There were no more battles, no more worries. Well, he would have to eventually start having sex with Voldemort, but that seemed small compared. Harry figured there was nothing much to complain over. He could always be dead. There was always worse. 

A light kiss to the back of his neck pulled him from his reverie. “Not so bad, is it?”

“Being held by you, or the situation we’re in?”

“I would hardly call it a situation,” said Severus. 

“Of course. You wouldn’t.” Harry turned in Severus’s arms so that they were face-to-face. “You’re the only one that gets to win.”

Severus raised a brow. “You think I enjoy this?”

“You were the one that betrayed us.”

“Is it nice to see the world so simply? There are hard choices to be made, Potter. I made my own hard choices.”

Harry scoffed right into Snape’s face. “Oh, poor you! Poor thing, having to live in a lavish home and be taken care of. Only have to exchange your morals and friends! Only have to let thousands of people die so you could have your fancy frills.” He held a look of disbelief. “ I can’t believe you. You let so many people die. For this?”

“And what would’ve come of the Light winning?” Severus asked calmly.

“Peace? Freedom?” Harry took in a deep, shaky breath. “I’d still have family. I’d have a mother and a father. A godfather.” He rolled his eyes. “But I suppose you don’t care much for that.”

Severus’s face remained placid. “You act as if I have not lost many people. My friends have died.”

“But most of them are alive. They’re at home with their pets and slaves, planning to kill innocent people.”

“Tough choices, Potter. You can’t live your entire life in service to everyone. I did something for myself. Selfish, but my actions have thought behind them.”

Harry hissed out his words. “And what thoughts were that?”

Snape was just about to answer when there came three sharp knocks on the door. He gave a sharp gasp, easing Harry away from him. Severus rose to his elbows, knowing the knock just by sound. Harry knew who it was.

“I’ll just go now.” Harry said, moving off the bed. He didn’t want any sexual tonight. He wanted some food and some parental affection. Sleep would be nice, especially if he would be allowed to lay with his friends. 

Severus grabbed Harry’s arm and gave him a look that told him to stay. Harry sat back down, surprised when Severus locked him into his arms again. The nuzzle on his collarbone was even more of a surprise, but Harry gave no indication that he enjoyed it.

“Szajha?” The Dark Lord said.

“We aren’t presentable, my Lord.” The look on his face was coy as he spoke. “A Debutante should never appear in a state of undress before anyone of importance.”

A sigh from outside suggested impatience. “Severus, it takes you hours to get dressed. I know you, my love.” The doorknob jiggled. “I’m impatient tonight. I need your attentions.”

A light chuckle from Severus. “Come in then, my Lord.” Harry watched the conversation with some unease. So easily Severus could switch from philosophical and stern to loving and submissive. Severus’s eyes turned to Harry. He stiffened, taking on his more regal form as if remembering his place. “You may come in, if you desire. I won’t defy you, my Lord.”

A nudge then the door was opened. As Voldemort stepped into the candlelight, it was easy to see his age. There were fine lines on his face. Seventy-three years showed. Still, Harry thought, he looked pretty nice for an old, sadistic killer. The salted hair made him seem softer, and yet Severus beaconed for him like a child.

Voldemort’s brows go up at the sight of Harry. He looked to his lover for an explanation. 

“We have company,” Severus whispered. 

He cocked his head to look down at Harry. “Let’s not forget our manners, dear Harry.” The affected and kind tone meant nothing to Harry. Years of being hunted and abused by a man would do that to you. Harry rose from the bed, moving from under the Szajha and stood in front of Voldemort. Looking the man in the eye, he gave a deep, reverant curtsy. If he was honest, he could vomit right then. Flashes of bloody red and death flew in his mind. So many dead and lost and --

“You’ve trained him well, Szajha.” Voldemort grabbed his chin. There was no warmth in the touch. He thought this is what it would be like if he was groped by a snake. He forced his eyes up. “Who knows? Maybe we won’t have to strap him down to make good use of him.”

Severus bowed his head, only peeking at Harry from the corner of his eye. “Thank you, my Lord. You’re very kind.”

Harry wanted to spit. Kindness was not a word that should ever be used in this context. Harry waited until Voldemort touch was gone before showing a shudder. 

Severus rose to slippered feet and hastily straightened himself out. He adjusted his hair and clothes, fixing the way his robe sat on his body. He looked into the mirror then, once satisfied in the reflections appearance, begins to fall into a deep curtsy. The Dark Lord has other plans for the evening, and pulled Severus into a tight embrace. Sugary endearments are passed and shared, abbreviated by kisses and nuzzles. Harry distaste builded. It came to a head when their lips collided. Harry felt sick to his stomach, but he couldn’t look away.

Severus’s eyes fluttered close as he leaned into the kiss. The Dark Lord’s remained open, watching Severus’s face. Harry noted the profiles - one brown with a prolific nose and one tan with slight features - and thought on how they complimented each other. Voldemort eased his fingers in Severus’s hair. Severus sighed and moved closer. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was horrific and nightmarish, but it was beautiful and everything he wanted.

The Dark Lord noticed him. The kiss was broken. Severus looked debauched with reddened lips and heavy eyes. Voldemort barely looked affected. 

“Sit,” Voldemort commanded. Severus obeyed, skitting over to a nearby chair. He sat with a straight back as he listened to his love.

“I recall telling you that we’d meet soon again,” the Dark Lord parroted their previous conversation as he unbuttoned his robe. Bit by bit pieces of the Dark Lord’s flesh are revealed to Harry. A heavy wave of nausea rolled over him as he realized Voldemort wore nothing under his clothes. He can’t tell if he’s taken aback by the fact that it was happening or that he was liking it. 

He spoke while he undressed. “I’ve been waiting patiently. How long I’ve wanted to bend you over and dominate you. Victory has given me the chance to make my wishes a reality.” He gave a coy look. “Just because I can’t pluck the floor doesn’t mean I can’t smell it.” The garment was pushed his shoulders, and onto to the floor. Harry saw the full extent of Voldemort now. He was lean but well-fed. The fat around his stomach infuriated Harry. All those starving people and Voldemort was well fed. 

There’s no requests or demands from Voldemort. He merely pointed to the bed. Harry took his place. Voldemort stood in front of him, smiling his snakish smile. He turned his attention to the nightstand, pulling it open and taking out a pack of cigarettes. “There are some things the Mudbloods do well.” He sat one into his mouth.

Harry never tried smoking before. There was no time. He didn’t have to, however, because just as he turned to tell Voldemort he wasn’t going to smoke, his mouth was covered with smokes and lips. The lack of air got to him. His eyes watered and he coughed. 

Severus laughed.

“You’ll get better at it,” said Voldemort as he rubbed Harry’s back. Harry arched away from the touch.

The cigarette was tossed into an ashtray. Voldemort started in on Harry’s clothes, untying the nightgown with little problem. The gown fell at his waist. Harry couldn’t held the urge to cover himself. The arms were pulled away though, and soon he felt a feather soft kiss on his shoulder. 

A hand pushed him back onto the bed, and Harry’s legs opened. Voldemort slipped between them. Harry was hesitant as he attempted to make himself comfortable in his arms. The Dark Lord continued to lavish Harry’s shoulder with kisses. Harry didn’t know he was holding his breath until the mouth landed on his nipple. 

A jolt of electricity went through his body, lighting his body with a million sparks. Harry stood stock still, not wanting his body to betray him. Gender spells could do a lot of things, but it could not help the warm tingling that rested right beneath his erection. Harry closed his eyes.

Through gritted teeth, he said, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what, Harry?” 

“Tease me like this. Don’t toy with me unless you plan on having me.”

Before Severus could give an apology for Harry’s brash words, Voldemort gave a high, hearty laugh. Voldemort pulled away from Harry, deeply amused by the lack of grace the man showed. Harry could’ve sworn he soften and dried faster than he ever did. Areas that once felt electrified numbed. 

“You taught him to be wanton, Severus, but you’ve seemed to skip the lesson dedicated to evasiveness,” the Dark Lord said between laughter. “So much for demure.”

Harry glanced over at Severus. He regretted it immediately. 

The Szajha’s face was a startling shade of bloody red. Though brown skin hid some of his anger and embarrassment, it was easy to see how he felt. The make-up dressed face was pulled into his trademark scowl. It was obvious that Severus did not like being laughed at. The fact that his “love” was laughing at him only made it worse.

Harry sat up on his elbows. Though he couldn’t care less how Severus felt, he felt an the urge to make this better. It was all his fault this happened in the first place. Before any more damage could be done, Harry spoke.  “Forgive me. I let my body get in the way of my training.”

The Dark Lord waved his apology away. “You wouldn’t know. You’re still just a young lion trying to navigate this world.” He looked to Harry with amusement. “I bet you’ve never even touched yourself.”

Harry was starting to feel warm in the neck. He didn’t want to hear his enemy talk about his body like this. Still, he wanted to right the wrong. He remained quiet and, to his own disgust, bowed his head.

“A word to the wise, young Harry; do not beg for pleasure. It’s most uncouth. You’re a Debutante. Have some pride in what you do.”

Pride? Harry could spit in his face if he wanted. Years of being treated like dirt, being hunted like wild game and tortured by this very man, and he wanted Harry to take pride in being a slave? He swallowed the saliva he had built up in his mouth. 

“Yes,  _ my Lord _ ,” Harry said. He looked the Dark Lord in the eye as he pushed himself from the bed. He was tired of his charade. Exhaustion from the last few weeks had hit him like a freight train. “Do I have your permission to leave?”

“You do,” said the Dark Lord. He looked Harry up and down then continued. “Don’t worry about dear Severus. He’ll be fine.”

Harry turned his eyes away while Voldemort clothed himself again. He didn’t move until the last button was in it’s proper hole. Only then did he will himself to move towards the door. As he reached his hand for the knob, he asked, “How many more days?”

“Four.”

Four days for him to decide what he wanted. There was no choice, really. He would still be a bird in a gilded cage, surrounded by pretty swings and birdseed. All that really changed was the hand that fed him. 

Voldemort. Severus. Draco. 

The options revolted him, but he supposed the choice seemed easy. Just follow his heart. He knew what his heart wanted. 

Harry opened the door then left. 


	8. frivolity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The house of Malfoy is blessed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *victory screech for finishing the original eight chapters written by callie* We have reached a new level my friends! This chapter is extremely short, but only because the next chapter is final fitting and the chapter after that *drumroll* the party!!

“I can’t work under these conditions!” Mattox shouted, throwing the slim, silver needle down. It got lost in the stringy loops of the soft carpet. The man fumed for a moment then, realizing what he had done, fell onto his hands and knees to search for it. “Damn it all.” He prodded around a little longer before looking up at Colin from his place on the ground. “Well, Mr. Creevy, do you intend on helping or just standing there?”

“It’s not a Debutante’s place to kneel,” Colin responded, all high nose and elitism. It was only just two days before the Cockatrice Bacchanalia, and all of the Debutantes have taken on a new air. The motley crew of survivors seemed to have decided to deal with their circumstance. If they were to be miserable, they would be miserable with some pride and pomp.  

Harry couldn’t say he wasn’t proud of Colin. The young, brown boy’s  arrogance was something to be desired. 

Mattox was only seconds away from commenting on Colin’s ego when he was interrupted.

“I can think of no better place for a Debutante.” Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, poised and elegant as ever. Age and war revealed itself in him. His cane was less decoration and more support. He leaned on it as he walked into the room. “If anything, the Debutante’s only place in between a man’s thighs. Putting those big mouths to use, yes?” Lucius turned grey eyes to Mattox. “Dismissed.” 

The man rose to his feet, abandoning his search. He left without a word, seemingly eager to be out of Malfoy’s presence. Harry almost loathed to see him go.

“Where is your Szajha?”

“He isn’t here. He’s with Lord Voldemort,” said Neville. The boy looked up from his small set of plants. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind an audience.” 

“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” replied Lucius. “He’s predictable, your Szajha. Always returning to his master’s lap, spreading his legs and panting like some bitch in heat.”

“That’s quite enough, Lucius.”

Severus stepped into the room. There was no trace of anger or debauchery on his person, but Harry knew what had happened. Even though the sight of glossed lips tantalize the mind, he kept strong in his decision. He wasn’t some beaten and done with warrior. He would survive this one way or another. 

“I’m here about the Debutante,” Lucius said, finding a seat and taking it. “My son wishes to have one to sponsor. I thought we should discuss it.” Lucius eyed the other six Debutantes in the room. In a loud voice, he said, “The rest of you are dismissed to. I’m sure there are other things for you to do.”

The other Debutantes milled out, giving their goodbyes to Harry as the they passed. The minute the door closed behind them, Harry felt terribly alone. He knew what was coming but he didn’t feel comfortable being trapped in a room with Severus and Lucius. The two of them were good reasons his childhood was as volatile as it was. Still, he straightened his back and attempted to look comfortable. 

Come here,” said Lucius. Harry moved forward, gracefully as he could manage. He stood in front of Lucius as the older wizard examined him. Lucius made a noise of disdain as he gave Harry’s ass a small squeeze. Harry could feel the judgment - literally - but made no move to stop the assessment. “You know if Draco were to sponsor you, he’d end our entire family line. The end to the Malfoy’s all for the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Harry raised a brow. “The end to the Malfoy line? Rather dark, sir.”

“Unless you’re a woman, Mr. Potter, I doubt you’ll be able to supply an heir.”

“And who’s to say I don’t have the necessary parts to make a baby? You’ve never had the pleasure of having your hands up my skirt.” Harry smirked. “Or the displeasure of me on my periods.”

Some distaste showed in the senior Malfoy’s face. “Still I am uncertain my son should give up the joys of  _ real  _ fatherhood to satisfy a childhood crush. There are many women who’d love to have my Draco. Our Pure Blood will be tarnished by your…”

“His what?” Severus asked. “His gender or his skin?”

“Neither, dear Szajha,” Lucius said, glaring at Harry then returning to his placid, regal face. “My son has already signed the contract. All that’s needed is your signature.”

A quill and parchment as pulled from thin air and set in front of Harry. He’s sure in some other universe he would’ve given this more thought. It makes complete sense to him now. If he didn’t do this  _ thing  _ with Draco then he’d be tossed between Severus and Voldemort. The idea of being fondled by any of them disgusted him. At least with Draco there was  _ something _ . They wouldn’t be starting from scratch. There were at least seven years of brewing passion and tension there. Surely tension could become something deeper. If not, well, he was a Debutante, wasn’t he? He could have anyone he wanted.

Harry took the quill and signed his name. His signature glowed then dulled, signifying the completion of the spell and contract. Paper and quill disappear. 

Severus gave a hum. “Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy. Your son is a lucky man. One of the finest Debutantes to be his own.” The Szajha turned his eyes to Harry. “And my congratulations to you, Mr. Potter. The house of Malfoy is blessed.”


	9. budding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No,” Harry said. He realized how pessimistic he was, saying this, but it was true and someone had to say it. “And it’s going to be a long time before we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting darker for the Debutantes. I realized how much I missed Dumbledore and his influence on Harry when I had to write these tougher scenes. He soon will have more support what with the women reentering the scene, but for now he's in a very hard place. I think you guys will get two chapters today. I swear it's only because I'm extremely eager for the next steps !

  
The rest of the day passed with no issue. The Debutantes shared a small lunch with Severus. Afterwards, Severus went to his chambers, complaining of aching head. The Debutantes were left alone to amuse themselves in the Acca Larentia as Aquarius took up their plates.

Most of the Debutantes decided to rest, using pillows from the pavilion to make comfy pallets. The room was dim, and only the soothing sound of rain filled the space. Ron went to sit near Harry. The ginger laid down by his friend, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry adjusted so he could scratch at Ron’s hair.

“Why’d we get kicked out?” Ron asked. The man was good at hiding worry, but it was apparent in him now. “Some secret thing Snape wanted to burden you with?”

“Not so much a burden, no,” replied Harry. Ron was one of his best friends. To tell him that he and Draco were, pretty much, married would be hard. They didn’t spend seven years hating Malfoy for nothing. “You won’t like it.”

“Oh?” Ron perked up.

“Promise me you won’t shout?”

“I can’t promise anything,” said Ron. He looked at Harry with much curiosity, eager to know the great secret.

Harry took a breath, then started. “You know how I mentioned the whole sponsor thing? And how Draco was interested in me?”

Ron huffed dramatically. “How could I forget?”

“Well … I’m, erm, sort of married to Malfoy now.”

Ron shot up from his lounging position. Harry had to put a hand over his mouth to stop him from causing a commotion. Though the situation was void of humor, Harry couldn’t help bursting into giggles. Years of war and hatred and racism, all for Harry to “marry” into one of the most prejudiced houses.

Ron calmed, eyes still full of mock anger as he spoke. “I’m a lil’ upset I wasn’t invited to the ceremony.”

“It wasn’t a real wedding. I signed a contract then got sent back here,” Harry drew in a sharp breath. “It wasn’t all that romantic.”

“You sound disappointed again. Did you want the white robes and flowers?”

Potter gave Ron a playful jab to the side. “No.” His face had a shy but clever smile. “But it would’ve been nice.”

Afternoon drifted into evening. Szajha returned from his chambers, dressed again in trademark black robes. The high neck and sleeves did well to conceal bitten and bruised skin. Harry could’ve sworn he saw rope ligatures on the Szajha’s wrists. Dirty thoughts of not so gentle romps in bed swam in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing them away.

Severus was followed by a large green snake. The Debutantes stopped their conversations to view Nagini. The last time any of them saw her was in the heat of war. Neville was to kill her, but situations changed and the damned thing was still alive. It slithered behind the Szajha, following Snape up to the pavilion.

There was a beat of silence and then, “Where are all my pillows?”

The Debutantes looked down at the mess of blankets and throw pillows around them. No one said a word. After realizing none of them would speak, Severus came down to see his items strewn about the room. A few poisonous glares were thrown to his Debutantes.

“Next time you want pillows, ask Aquarius.”

A small symphony of mutters was followed by the snap of Severus’s fingers. Four of the eunuch-like servants arrived. They moved the furniture back into place, setting the pile up the way Severus liked. Harry was smart enough to notice how the eunuchs avoided the giant snake.

When he was satisfied, the Szajha went up to his pavilion and laid down. After a moment of silence, Severus spoke again. “Come up here. All of you.”

They came with little noise, avoiding Nagini as they stepped. The pavilion was large enough to fit the eight of them, but it was hard when a large snake was taking up most of the space. Severus absentmindedly pushed Nagini so that there was more space for Colin and Seamus to sit.

With Debutantes and Szajha seated well, Severus cleared his throat. “In just two days’ time, it will be the Cockatrice Bacchanalia. I’ve spent much time training you and beating you into some shape, but tomorrow this becomes more and more realistic.” A yawn, then he continued, “Tomorrow will be your final fittings for your clothing. You’ll wake early, bathe and be in my chambers before breakfast is served. After breakfast, we’ll practice our manners and entrance. Light lunch around twelve, then a final lesson just before your fittings.”

Neville spoke next, “And when will we get to rest?”

“After the Bacchanalia,” Severus said, “Though you’ll be happy to know that you won’t be sleeping in the Acca Larentia forever. There’s a whole wing the Malfoy’s had to close down during the war. Victor spoils allowed them to reopen it. Some very talented wizards have been renovating it for you all.”

“But we’ll have to wait two days to sleep in it, huh?” Ron’s doubtful tone matched the feeling of each of the men.

“I suppose so. It’s not all lemon sherbets and ice cream for me either. The next two days will be taxing on us all. I suggest you get your rest while you can.”

There was a problem with that sentence. Harry was the first to point it out. “Just where are we supposed to sleep? You took back the blankets.”

An exasperated sigh from Severus showed that the man was tiring of this conversation. “Up here. You can sleep up here. Find a spot, and sleep up here.” Severus rolled over to face away from his charges.

Annoyed in Severus’s attitude, Harry led the six others down the steps of the pavilion. Outside of the Acca Larentia stood Aquarius holding sheets and comforters. The slight man’s white tunic was traded out for a brighter shade of light yellow. He looked to the group of men, confused by their departure.

“Is something wrong? Is the Szajha okay?” Aquarius asked.

“Yes, he’s fine. He’s just … tired,” Harry spoke for them all this time.

“He’s napping. I think he’d prefer silence for the moment,” Justin added. “We were just about to go to the Solarium. Weren’t we, Harry?”

Harry nodded. He silently praised Justin’s ability to come up with things on the spot. “Yes, we were just going to sit in the garden. Afterwards, I think we might spend some time in the parlor. The Malfoys do have a parlor, yes?”

Aquarius opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it. He shook his head, reminding himself it wasn’t the place to question the Debutantes. “They do. Um, will you need some assistance in either of these rooms?”

Harry was just about to say no when Ron quipped, “Yeah, actually, I think we might. Don’t know what yet though. How ‘bout you come with us then we’ll see what we need, huh?”

More confusion brimmed in Aquarius’s eyes but the man said nothing about it. He gave a curt nod. First stopping to leave the bed linen in a closet, Aquarius followed a few steps behind the brood.

Following Harry’s lead, the motley crew went down passages and hallways until they finally reached the moss and ivy covered hall. The greenhouse seemed dimmer than usual. Heavy clouds hung in the sky, blocking the sun from view. Though disappointed they wouldn’t spend the remainder of the day soaked in sunshine, Harry was relieved to be this close to the outside. He wondered if, after the Bacchanalia, they would be allowed to wander the grounds.

All of them found something to entertain themselves. Neville hovered around the plants, talking excitedly about herbology. Colin and Justin sat on the low stone seating to get good views of the world outside. Seamus and Ron were busy trying to convince Aquarius to find some Quidditch magazines, so Harry was on his own.

He looked at the runes on the tower for a while, tracing his fingers along the Arabic characters. Harry had no clue what they said, but they fascinated him still. His exploration was taken over by thoughts of his situation. A heavy rock sat in his stomach as he thought of the Bacchanalia and of Draco. He felt trapped in the moment. Though he tried to rationalize his actions by thinking of worse situations, the deep sinking sensation dragged him down.

Moving out of sight of the other Debutantes, Harry sat on the ground and wrapped his arms around his knees. Deep breathing would not will the panic away. He squeezed his eyes shut. There was a terrible pounding in his head and chest. It was hard to breathe.

Reality set in all at once. Not only had they lost the war, they lost their freedom. His inability to defeat Voldemort has led him and his friends to capture. They were slaves – sexual slaves – to the most notorious wizard. If Harry said the wrong thing or made the wrong move, there would be countless bloody bodies on his hands. He knew it was smart for him to play nice. There were lives to be saved through this, but he couldn’t help but feeling guilty. How many of his friends were in the dungeons now? Starving and dying away? How many people that he passed in the hallway were tossed into mass graves? Such heavy thoughts forced ugly sobs from Harry.

God, all of this was his fault. If he was just a little quicker to finding the Horcruxes…

Harry didn’t hear footsteps over the sounds of him crying. He was startled by Ron sitting next to him. With Ron so close to him, free of makeup and decorations, it was easy to see the effect this was having on him. Harry shook his head.

“We failed. We fucked up,” Harry sobbed. He tried to keep quiet, but misery outweighed all else.

Ron moved closer so that Harry could lay his head on Ron’s shoulder. “We didn’t fuck up. This wasn’t our fault.”

“Yes, it was. We could’ve found the Horcruxes faster. We could’ve … we could’ve spent less time in the forest. Ron, we destroyed the wizarding world.”

“No,” Ron said with some finality. “No, we didn’t. Our precious Dark Lord is to thank for that. We tried our hardest. If it wasn’t for the bat, we would’ve won.”

“Aren’t you worried?” Harry asked. He wiped tears from his face using the heel of his hand. “What about Hermione? Dean? Lavender? What about our friends?”

“They’re strong, Harry. They’ll survive it too.”

“I can’t help but feel a little guilty. We’re living in this posh manor, and we did nothing to save them.”

“We didn’t have our wands,” was Ron’s reply. “We could’ve done something had we had our wands.”

The boys were still as Harry’s tears turned into sniffles.

“I don’t know how we’re going to survive this.”

“We will. We’re Gryffindors. We were built to survive.”

* * *

 

Sleep came sooner than expected. The Debutantes, worn by their evening in the garden, slept in the Solarium. Though nightmares woke them frequently, the six men pieced together a good few hours of rest. When morning came the boys were surprised by the sunlight. After spending several minutes letting their bodies be warmed by the sun, they made their way back to the Acca Larentia.

There in the room waited a small group of servants. Dressed in white tunics, the servants’ hands were covered in dragon hide gloves. They were wordless as they escorted the Debutantes from the room into the hallway, and down several other corridors.

In the baths, the servants made quick work of the Debutantes clothes. Old robes and undergarments were tossed aside as the servers helped the Debutantes into the large tubs.

The two servers assigned to Harry were gentle. One worked shampoo into his hair while the other rubbed sweet smelling soap onto his body. Harry tried not to think of about the last time he was in the baths. He loathed to think of his lips on Severus’s, and how he wanted the moment to last forever. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to enjoy the warm, bubbling water.

A hand tapped his leg. He opened his eyes again. A server was at his feet, holding up his leg as if it was a fine piece of china.

“Sir? I must clean your feet. Would you mind sitting on the edge on the bath?”

Harry shook his head. “No, no. It’s fine. Just let me, you know …” Harry pulled his leg away and sat up on the edge. A flash of shyness inspired him to cover his crotch. The server’s face remained placid as they took Harry’s leg up again.

Harry leaned back on his elbows as the slim servant used a rough stone to rub callouses off his feet. There was an uncomfortable sensation at having his skin picked and pulled at, but eventually he was able to relax and enjoy the treatment. The servers, once satisfied in the cleanliness of the Debutantes, pulled the men from the water.

Once patted down with soft towels, they were rubbed with oils and lotions until they glistened. Harry’s own dark skin seemed to shimmer with the shea butter applied to his body. The Debutantes were given light robes to wear, and were taken to the Szajha’s chambers.

The servers disappeared after leaving the Debutantes at Severus’s door. Harry couldn’t complain. Though it was nice to be doted on, it felt strange. Harry wondered when he’d be allowed to wash himself.

Harry moved first to knock on the door. It was answered quickly by Aquarius. The young man looked exhausted. Harry knew Aquarius would have to rise earlier than them all to help prepare Szajha. Aquarius hid a yawn behind his hand, and invited the Debutantes in. He gave a quick bow before speaking.

“The Szajha is still preparing for the day. Just give me a moment to finish with his hair then I’ll have breakfast served.”

“What are we eating today?” Neville asked.

“Fruits, I think. The Malfoys have a beautiful orchard, and I’ve asked the house elves to pick some for you all,” answered Aquarius. “I’ll have them bring up tea if you want.”

No complaints came from the six. Neville, Justin and Colin took a seat on the bed while Harry, Ron, Seamus found spots on the floor. Aquarius took his leave into the bathroom. There were some muffled words none of them could quite make out. After a minute or so of waiting, the bathroom door opened again.

Severus stepped out, hair piled onto his head in a complex bun. Light makeup coated his face. He stopped to peek in the vanity mirror. A tube of red rogue was picked up and applied to full lips. Severus mushed his lips together, fixing up the few smudged spots then turned to his former students.

“Good morning. I trust you all slept well,” said Severus.

“We slept in the garden,” responded Colin. “Was strange waking up to all that sun. The rooms we normally sleep in have no windows.”

“I’ve noticed. The old wing has plenty of windows however. You won’t have to worry about sleeping in pure darkness.”

Harry thought it strange how polite they were being to Severus. Still, he carried on with the niceties. “And how did you sleep last night?”

“Well. I slept well. The presence of a snake made it harder, but eventually Nagini left me for our master. I finally got some rest just as it was time to rise,” yawned Severus. Makeup did well to hide the tiredness. “But overall, yes, I rested well.”

Severus waved the three boys off of his bed. They moved onto the floor, sitting close to their friends. “Breakfast soon, of course, but I wanted to remind you all of today’s plans.” He didn’t wait to see if they were listening, he just continued, “After we eat, we’ll practice our manners and then the entrance into the ballroom. Light lunch then a final lesson before your fittings.”

Justin started to raise his hand, but brought it down. “And what’s after our fittings?”

“Dinner with the Dark Lord then bed. I’d like for you all to be sleep by eight. Tomorrow will be an exhausting, but rewarding experience. I assume you all remember the big event after the ball?”

Harry had almost forgotten. His deflowering. Most times Harry suffered little to no dysphoria about his body, but the thought of his archenemy having his hands near his vagina scared him. Though love poetry and mushy gazes would lead anyone to believe that Lord Voldemort was some great romantic, Harry knew the elder wizard was a sadistic, soulless monster. Harry hated that he had little choice in the matter. It was either this or death. Harry swallowed his fear. He would suffer the humiliation.

“Where will this ‘big event’ be happening anyways?” Ron questioned.

“Hopefully not in front of all those Death Eaters,” Seamus added. “It’s bad enough this even has to happen.”

Severus held up a hand. “It’ll be private. He’ll bring you to his chambers, and he’ll take you there. There’s six of you so it’ll be about a half hour each.”

“Very quick time for sex, isn’t that?” Neville quipped. “I thought it was supposed to be the biggest event of our lives.”

“You’ll be amazed at how much can happen in thirty minutes,” Severus sighed. “Besides, this is only your first time. You’ll have plenty of chances for him to bed you.”

The room went back to silence that was only broken by Aquarius. The young man was followed by two house elves holding heavy trays of fruit. Harry could admit that his mouth watered at the sight of mango and melon. When the house elves dropped out the trays, there was no hesitation. The men dug in, happy to have something sweet for breakfast. Seamus made a comment on how Ron was back to his normal self again, gesturing at how much fruit the man already devoured. The boys were wrapped up again in sweet memories of their days at Hogwarts.

“Oh! Do you remember the time in fourth year, Ron? The thing your brothers did?”

Ron laughed around a mouthful of pomegranate seeds. “Never wanted to see those pricks as old men. God, I’m scarred forever.”

“Not as scarred as me! Jesus, I tell you, this asshole never wore pants! He’d come out the showers as bold as can be!” Seamus exclaimed.

“Oh, it was only revenge for all the times I caught you and Dean snogging. I swear you two never knew how to keep it to yourselves.” Ron answered back.

Harry’s face twisted into mock horror. “Ron ‘Snogged Everyone in Sixth Year’ Weasley, you must be kidding me.” Ron gave him a jab that soon turned into playful wrestling.

Harry pinned Ron down. “Admit it. You were a filthy tart in sixth year.”

Ron tried to twist away, laughing still. “Only when you admit you were jealous of all love notes I was getting.”

“Ron Weasley, I will give you a tickling the likes you’ve never seen. Admit it, and I’ll free you.”

“Never!” At that Harry dove to tickle Ron’s stomach, not stopping until the other man was gasping for breath. Such playful moments were lost in war. Harry was happy to look down at his friend and actually see a smile. It didn’t even matter to him that Snape was giving them strange looks. It just felt nice to laugh.

“Alright, alright,” Ron gasped as he came down from his jovial high. “I admit I was a filthy tart. You satisfied Potter?”

Harry had to take in deep breaths to calm himself after the giggling fit. “Only barely.”

Aquarius and the elves were back to take the trays away. The Debutantes had dissolved into a mass of tired bodies. Even the Szajha had fallen back on his bed, head resting on soft pillows as he began to snooze. The small group lay like that for an hour or so before Severus jerked up.

“Up! Up, up,” said Snape. “We’re supposed to be in the ballroom.”

He didn’t give his former students a moment to catch their breaths. He slipped a robe over his pajamas, pulled down his hair and stepped into a pair of slippers. Snape opened the door. “Out. Out into the hallway. I’ll lead you down in just a moment.”

The boys gave no argument, walking out of the room while rubbing their eyes and yawning. Harry stayed close to Ron, looping his arm with Ron’s in a weak grasp for some company. Severus stepped around to move in front of them. He began to lead the way. The Debutantes followed, filling the halls with chatter. Ron and Harry sometimes stopped to look a picture or gawk at some statue.

“You’d think with all that money they’d could afford better art.” Ron said, looking up at a painting of Muggles being crushed by a very tall wizard’s foot.

“Oh, and you know art, Ron?” Harry joked. The painting was strange. If he looked to long, he felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach. “Come on. I don’t want to fall behind.”

When they reached the ballroom it was full and cluttered. The room was dusty and old-smelling. Venustians sat in clusters, cutting fabric and measuring walls with their wands. Mattox stood near the center of the room, looking up at the ceiling. Harry turned his eyes upward. The chandelier that hung in the ballroom reminded him of the chandelier that almost killed Bellatrix. He smiled at the memory before feeling a little tug in his chest as he also remembered that such circumstances led to the death of Dobby. He shook bitter thoughts away as his eyes swept the room.

Far into a dark corner, Harry thought he saw Voldemort and a slight young woman standing next to him. His spirits rose, hoping that the woman was Hermione. He touched Ron’s shoulder and pointed to said person.

“Look there,” he said. Ron turned his eyes. An unmissable smile touched his lips. Harry knew the man wished he could shout out her name, but for now they were the silent six, only here to practice how to be beautiful.

Severus lead them to a seemingly untouched space of ground just before the double stairs began. He gestured to the platform. “We’ll come in from the doors behind us,” He swung his arm to point to the original doors. “Then two by two, you’ll come up on either side. I’ll be standing in the center so you all will be standing next to me. No smiling, no waving. No movement at all, actually. You’ll stand stock still, a little noble. Then when the applause has died down, I’ll call for the dancing.”

Snape stopped to make sure the men were listening. “Each of you will be paired with a Death Eater. The Death Eater,” he said, taking Harry’s hand and leading him out into the open space, “will take you by your hand, kiss your palm, and invite you to dance. Of course, you’ll say yes. You will then do a simple waltz that ends with another kiss to your hand. Afterwards you are free to dance with whomever you please.” He demonstrated each step on Harry. A breath passed before Harry could think about being upset. “Any questions?”

Justin moved to raise his hand but halted. He cleared his voice then spoke. “Will we be practicing our entrance now?”

“Yes, yes,” Severus said. He dropped Harry’s hand and moved purposefully to the ballroom doors. “Start from the hall. I’ll give my word when I want you to come in.”

The Debutantes went out into the hallway, thinking over the steps in their mind. Neville paired with Colin, Justin with Seamus, and Ron, of course, with Harry. Harry touched the place on his hand that Severus kissed. He didn’t understand how he could want to scratch it off but savor it so bad. Ron took his hand so he would stop fidgeting.

“You think the git will have us do this as much as the curtsies?”

“I hope not. My ankles couldn’t handle it,” Harry responded.

“Here’s to getting it right on the first time, men,” said Colin from behind them. “I have to piss a storm so I’d love to be out of here and out of this dress as soon as possible.”

“Ah, come off it, Colin. We’ll be out of here in no time.”

* * *

 

They were there for what seemed like forever.

It wasn’t all of their fault per se. The lighting was terrible so they tripped a few times. Colin really had to pee so they had to wait. Severus couldn’t conduct with the noises of construction around him. By the time they had successfully done the walk, the dance and the manners, it was time to get to fittings.

Severus checked his watch then the clock hanging on the wall. “Alright. If you all can find your way to the next room over on the left, we’re start the final fittings.” He turned his eyes to the dark corner. Lifting his head to see better, he nodded. “I’ll be over in just a moment.”

As Snape went over into that dark corner with the Dark Lord and, possibly, Hermione, the Debutantes walked slowly out of the ballroom and into the next room over. There were Venustians there too, but they seemed much to caught up in their work to pay much attention to the Debutantes. Seven mannequins stood around the room holding the most lovely dresses Harry had seen. And tomorrow I’ll be wearing one of them, he thought. The thought made him a little giddy. He was quite eager to see his own gown, but was happy to mill around and touch the others.

They skimmed through the gowns, commenting on the length and colors. Seamus’s had a surprise bit of ombre, transitioning from a heated burgundy to deep coal. Neville’s simple, but timeless black shift was decorated with gems made to look like stars. Colin and Justin’s almost virginal gowns were destined to give them the innocent look Mattox so desperately wanted. Ron’s fiery red gown was eye catching, and all of the men agreed he’s look stupendous in it. However, when they came across the last two dresses, the six stopped short.

Their eyes first went to the almost menacingly silver and black gown-robe combo that sat on the first mannequin. It had a long, dramatic cape and a beautiful off shoulder wrap that reminded Harry of something he’d seen in a magazine. The dress looked heavy and light at the same time. He was sure if the dancer twirled in such a gown the whole room would be alight.

“Who’s is this?” Harry asked, almost reverent. “It’s --”

“Beautiful. I know.”

The Debutantes turned. Severus stood at the entrance, eyes traveling up and down the length of the gown. He stepped into the room followed closely by Mattox and a few Venustians. Behind them stood Aquarius.

“It’s mine.” said Severus. He went forward to touch the robes. “Mattox did me a great service. He’s been designing this since the war ended.”

That didn’t sit very well with Harry. He tore his eyes away from the Szajha’s gown, now seeing the second mannequin. He stopped short.

Colin burst in front of him, hovering his hands over an elegant white and gold affair with a distinct Grecian vibe. “Oh! Harry, I think one is yours!”

It was, indeed, Harry’s. When he had heard Mattox describe it, he didn’t think it would look anything like this. This was beyond his wildest imaginations. Harry didn’t want to touch it in fear he might dirty it somehow.

Mattox broke the quiet reverence. “Now, now, I know we’re all quite in awe by the handiwork of my Venustians, but please! Let’s start with the fittings, yes?”

The Debutantes were each given their own Venustian. Harry was given to Mattox himself, something that worried him some. As Mattox put him up on a round, wooden block, Harry looked behind him, seeing how the other fittings were going. Ron was assigned to a plump-faced woman with quick hands and dark hair. She chatted with him some, and something she said caused Ron to laugh. Harry looked down at Mattox as the man did some more adjustments to his gown.

“The, um, gown is very pretty,” Harry said.

Mattox looked up, brows furrowed in concentration. “It is, isn’t it? You’ll look lovely once you’re in it.” He gave a disdainful look to Harry’s backside. “You’re a bit full, aren’t you? I didn’t notice that the first time around, but I suppose you’ve been eating more.”

Harry cleared his throat. “It must be better, actually, to work on me when I’m fuller.”

“How so?”

“Well, before I was a bit of a stick, eh? Sure I’ve got muscle an’ tone from Quidditch, but not the same as having naturally thick, fatty thighs.” Harry’s never been ashamed of the extra weight he had. No one never pointed out the fatness around his stomach and chest. They assumed it was all muscle.

“Hm, you’ve got a very womanly figure,” said Mattox, his voice leading. “Should I be mindful to add some extra padding to the brassiere area?”

Harry coughed, throwing Mattox off some. “No, er -- no. I’m almost completely flat-chested.” He gave Mattox a look, though he was sure the man wasn’t paying attention. “Besides, I don’t look like I need any enhancements, now do I?”

Mattox stood to his full height, looking up at Harry before turning to retrieve a corset. “Of course not. I’m just being mindful that I’m fitting for a different body type. Arms up, Mr. Potter, I’d like to get this corset onto you.”

Harry threw his arms up. Mattox did a very clean job of putting on the corset, lacing it up and then instructing Harry to put his arms down. Harry stood for a moment, sucking in his breath as he waited for Mattox to take the gown from the mannequin.

“Step in, Mr. Potter. I’ll button you up as soon as it’s on.”

The dark-haired man followed instructions. Mattox was quick to button him up and finish the rest of the lacing and adjusting as he went. He stood back and admired his handiwork.

“My, my. I could imagine you being a beautiful woman, Mr. Potter. Why ever make the change?”

“I’m not a woman,” is all that Harry said. “I’m not a woman. No matter what the Szajha wants, I’m not a woman.”

Mattox tipped his head and tsked. “What you want and what you are hardly matter here, Harry. You’ll be wise to play the role given.”

“And if I don’t like the role?”

Mattox hummed then extended a hand. “Alright. Let’s see what your friends look like, yes?”

He was led out of the small dressing room into the main area. The room was abuzz. Even with the curtain open, he still didn’t get the full affect and noise of the fitting room. Two Venustians were putting the final touches on Justin’s gown and a slight woman with big, nervous eyes was helping Seamus into a pair of shoes. When Mattox lead Harry to the center of the room, all the noises stopped. Harry swallowed, feeling embarrassed by being the center of all this silence.

Made nervous by this intense focus, Harry couldn’t keep his mouth closed any longer. He pulled away from Mattox’s gloved grasp and went over to look at Ron.

“Lookat you, mate! Only thing redder than that dress is your hair.”

“Ink was telling me the same thing.” Ron was all smiles. He came down from his step, pushing the curtain open more with his hand. He wobbled some as he came down, uneven on his shoes. “You gotta help me down. I can fly, but Merlin if I can walk on these stilts.”

Harry took Ron’s hands and helped him down. “I hope we won’t have to dance in the heels. I might topple over.” Harry gave Ron a sympathetic look. “You’ll do better than me, Ron. You’re not clumsy.”

“And neither are you! Best seeker since your dad, eh?”

Harry laughed, thinking fondly back to days of Quidditch and riding his broom. They seemed so far away. He wondered if they might get a chance to fly again.

Ron took him in. It was different having Ron look at him. When Severus or the Dark Lord looked at him, he felt like something to be devoured. They watched him and he felt like he was being stripped and eaten. Whenever Ron stared, he just felt seen. He knows Ron isn’t looking under his clothes, but straight to his heart and his soul.

“You’re going to make a stunning Debutante. Outdo us all again. Never give us a damn chance to shine.” It’s joking and without any malice. Harry made a nothing noise, showing that Ron’s words affected him none. “You’ll have them dripping off of you.”

“God, I wish I wouldn’t--” A yelp broke the conversation. Ron turned quickly, hand moving to his side. Years of having his wand close at hand had made the movement almost habit. Harry flexed his fingers some, feeling every muscle in his hand.

The panic was for nothing. Colin, clumsy in the low heels, had nearly toppled over. Lucky for the small Debutante, Aquarius was nearby and had caught him. A part of Harry worried. He knew that Aquarius was not allowed to touch them, but still he applauded the man for rushing to Colin’s side. Feeling useless on the sidelines, Harry took off his shoes and walked over to the pair. He tossed an understanding look Aquarius’s way, thanking him silently for helping his friend, then took Colin from his arms. He felt Aquarius’s hands brush back his own. He didn’t want to think of the man’s consequences.

The other Debutantes, some dressed and some not, rushed over. Harry held them away while he checked Colin’s ankle. Perfectly fine. He gave Colin a small smile.

“Might do better in boots or trainers under that pretty gown.”

“And step on the Dark Lord’s toes in vans?”

“You gotta admit it. It would be a sight,” Ron said, standing to the side. His eyes moved from Colin to Harry then to Aquarius. “Thanks, mate. For helping Colin I mean. Could’ve really hurt ‘imself.”

Aquarius waved his hand away. “It was nothing. I mean, yes, it was something and, well ... thank you.” The man tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “Mr. Creevy, are you well?”

Colin was breathing hard, still shocked from the fall. “Just a little shaken up. But, um, thank you, Aquarius. You’re a real life savior.”

Aquarius bowed his head, blushing some. “It’s ... you’re welcome, Debutante.” Aquarius noted the way the other Venustians looked at him. There was an air of disgust. Harry was sure one of them already ran off to tell Mattox or Szajha that Aquarius touched Colin. Harry wanted to be there to defend him. “I’ll have to go find something for me to do. Spend my last few hours as your keeper doing some good.”

Harry paused for a moment. At a loss for something warming to say, he decided shove down his dress. He kicked the expensive mess of fabric away, standing in front of his friends in a corset and silky briefs. “There’s got to be a pond around here. We can go there and get some fresh water. We loved swimming in the Great Lake, right?”

“Yeah,” Neville whispered. “Yeah! God, I’d love to have some grass under my feet.” He began to strip down too, removing his gown and shoes. Other Debutantes followed, agreeing here and there and talking about how fun it would be to run and roll around. Harry helped Ron out of his gown, giving a little joking squeeze to a few softer parts.

Aquarius, now surrounded by six half-naked men, wrung his hands. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. I’m already out of a job. Mind as well enjoy what time I have left.”

The Debutantes cheered as Aquarius removed the light shift and tossed it to the side. Aquarius covered his chest with his arms, still feeling conscious in this room full of gossiping eyes.

“There’s a pond just a short walk from here.” He looked down at his own appearance. “We’ll be find in our undies I think. If we get cold, I can always summon some blankets.” Aquarius did some strange thing with his hands and like that, he held a basket of blankets. Harry had seen wandless magic, but he had never seen the sort like that. Easy, effortless and with no frills; like magic should’ve never been tamed in the first place.

Though Harry cheered too as the left the room and the silent judgment of the others, he couldn’t stop thinking about Aquarius and his curious kind of magic.

* * *

 

It was like Harry had forgotten what wind and grass felt like. He didn’t realize how much he missed the smell of water, the smell of dirt, the feeling of bugs under his feet until he was walking toward the pond. He closed his eyes, tried to create some visual of Hogwarts during his younger years. He can see himself, small and hopeful, in his uniform. He’s at the lake with Ron and they’re thinking about dipping in their toes. The memory is so warm and bright. It almost feels real. Like all of this is some grand illusion and if he just opens his eyes, he’ll be in Hogwarts again, drinking pumpkin juice and playing Quidditch.

He opened his eyes. The pond was just that. A pond. It was surrounded by marsh and mud. He was sure that somewhere he’d find a snake or frog or two. Harry walked as if he was in a trance, putting one foot in front of the other but thinking nothing. He felt the squish of wet dirt underneath his feet. It felt so good and cool. It was kind that Aquarius brought blankets, but the weather was just perfect. Good for swimming, good for laying on the grass and staring up at the sky.

Eventually Harry stood at the bay. The water lapped at his toes. He thought about laughing and smiling and making any noise to show that he still felt things. He thought that being outside would make this feel better. He thought that standing in the sunshine and hearing bugs buzz around his ears would help some. It didn’t. There was the dread, the sinking and sucking feeling of knowing he would have to go back inside. Eventually he’d be back in the Manor, preparing for tomorrow.

God, tomorrow. It was too soon. Harry got down and sat. From his spot, he could see Justin and Colin splashing in the water. They looked so tan and young. If the war never happened, if Dumbledore was still alive, they’d be living normal lives now. Colin would work for the Daily Prophet or maybe he’d have his own newspaper. Maybe he’d be one of those artsy types. Behind him, Neville looked at plants. Aquarius dug up some paper so he was taking notes, making little gasps as he saw more and more things he liked. Ron was nearby, wrapped in a blanket and staring off into the forest. Aquarius laid on the hill, hair down and body exposed to the sun.

It was such a perfect moment. It was fragile and just the smallest thing would destroy it, but it was perfect. Harry wished Colin had his camera with him. Just snap a picture of this time so he could remember it. He took in a deep breath and looked out over the water.

It was a while before the moment was broken. Eventually Harry and Ron convinced Aquarius to get into the water. Once Aquarius stopped flinching whenever they touched him, the time became more enjoyable. They yelped and screamed and chased each other. They rested on a mass of blankets, looking at the clouds and finding plants with Neville. They wandered into the forest and stared up at the tree tops. They dreamed of houses in those treetops, picturing themselves as fickle birds with the ability to fly anywhere. They lived and breathed and imagined lives far from here.

Harry didn’t think about time. He didn’t think about how it should be moving, and how the time spent here in this idyllic place wasn’t real. Any moment they’d be snatched up and pulled back to their prison. He tried not to let his worry consume him, but he was beginning to feel eaten alive.

Desperate to get away from his own mind, he walked up a lone hill. It was peaceful, surrounded by trees and high enough that he could see the water. He looked down at his skin, once clean and bronze and glimmering. It was covered in mud and grass and grime. He liked it. Loved it actually. He liked being clean and safe, but he preferred to be covered in dirt and free even more.

But time moves and idyllic moments were so easily squashed. He saw it first with Colin. How the man froze then screamed then disappeared from their sight. Neville next, then Justin, then Seamus. Ron couldn’t fight against the unseen so he was taken up as easily as the rest. Aquarius, realizing what was happening, looked at Harry with frantic eyes. He ran until he was close enough to grab Harry’s wrist.

“You’re being force summoned back. Just close your eyes and breathe through it. It’ll feel like a portkey though the pull will be near your back,” Aquarius tried to explain. “I’m going to hold onto you. I have the mark, but I highly doubt he’ll call me back.”

“No! I don’t want to go back there. There must be some way!” Harry shouted. “Let’s stay here. Can’t we ignore it?”

“It’s not like the Dark Mark. You can’t ignore it. It will take you-”

Aquarius’s words were cut off by a painful sensation near his back. The wave of nausea that so often came with portkeys was followed by a warping sensation around his back. The world went dark and when it was light again, Harry was in the baths at Malfoy Manor.

“Good. Now that you all are here, you can prepare for tonight’s dinner.”

Dressed in black and looking as imposing as ever, Severus loomed over the group. His hair was pulled back. It made his face look long and severe. Harry couldn’t bear to look at him too long.

Before anyone could say anything, hands grabbed them and pulled them into the baths. Harry turned his head to see where Aquarius was. The young man was being cornered by Severus. He looked fearful and weak in the Szajha’s presence. Harry thought he heard the man mention about the fall.

Harry couldn’t focus on what was happening to Aquarius. Not when rough hands were pulling and grabbing at him. The bath earlier was relaxing and calm, but this was aggressive and intrusive. A dragonhide glove covered hand sneaked in between his thighs and were attempting to wash there. Harry pushed the hand away.

“It cleans itself. You don’t need to touch it like that,” Harry said, kicking the Venustian away. Another Venustian took over, getting in the water near Harry, and lathered up a cloth. This one was older and more skilled with this. When Harry protested about the roughness, he ignored him and continued to rub away. Though the bruises and rawness would be gone in little time, Harry felt sore. He had little time to recover from the bath before a liquid was poured over his head. He could feel his tightly wound curls loosening. Straight hair fell around his shoulders. This felt even worse than the first time. Severus excuses covered the initial sting, but this was violence. This was no better than scraping off his skin to expose lighter flesh underneath.

Harry ran his fingers through his now straight hair. His fingers collided with the covered hands of a Venustian. He was angry. Horribly, disgustingly angry and he felt a little trapped. If he stayed still, Harry knew they would think that this was okay. They’d think that manipulating his body, his soul and his entire being was okay. And it wasn’t! But he also knew, that if he showed his anger then that is how he would be portrayed. The angry and horrible black Debutante with his terrible moods and tempers. Harry put his hands down. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He look at the other Debutantes, raw and abused and giving cold glares to their caretakers. When the Venustian came with a towel, Harry snatched it from them and wrapped himself in it. He didn’t want to get dressed, and he loathed to think of himself in audience with Voldemort. This wasn’t fair. Being forced to play nice with the man that ruined his life was in know way fair or fun.

Eventually Harry let himself be dragged into another room. The other five stood in their gowns for the evening, shivering and shuddering as if out in the cold. The rough hands returned and pushed him into his own gown, putting his hair up into an elaborate style and then, finally, leaving him be. Harry moved to be near his friends, getting close to Ron as possible. The red-head put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, mate. We’ll get pass this.”

“No,” Harry said. He realized how pessimistic he was, saying this, but it was true and someone had to say it. “And it’s going to be a long time before we do.”

* * *

 

The dinner wasn’t nearly as bad as Harry thought it would be. Though Severus was still quite angry with the Debutantes, he made no move to embarrass them in front of his Dark Lord. All talk of the men leaving the manor was erased from Severus’s mind, and the evening was spent in relative peace. Harry could imagine the evening going worse. Their anger could’ve led them into something dangerous.

There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that an infuriated Dark Lord had the ability to cause them all great harm. War be damned, the man was still as vicious and bloody minded as he originally was. Victory did not soften him. He remained a cold-hearted beast with an unnatural blood lust.

When the Debutante were permitted to leave, Harry made sure he was the first to go. He was sure that Draco called for him as he left, but he could not think. He thought not of where he was to go. The other Debutantes were probably led back to their sleeping room. Harry didn’t want to join them, but he didn’t want to sleep with Draco or Severus either. It was a big manor. There should have been somewhere for him to sleep.

He found, eventually, a small room. There wasn’t much to it. A bed, a wardrobe and a rug; Harry thought it might belong to a maid if the Malfoy’s didn’t have house elves. Harry slipped off his shoes and threw them to the side. His gown was taken off, folded and set on the dresser. In just his underwear, Harry climbed onto the bedside and slip under the covers.

The events of that afternoon swam in his mind. If he closed his eyes, he was back in the field. Grass on his back, straw in his hair and the smell of nature in his nose; the world was at peace. When Harry was young, he thought he might live some place in the countryside. Or perhaps he’d go to America and make a living there. He pulled the covers all the way over his head, trying to will himself to sleep.

When sleep came over him, it was in gentle waves. Nightmares were held at bay by sweet dreams of warm flower filled fields and cool rain. He dreamed of Hogwarts and Christmas dinners and of Dumbledore. He dreamed on himself up on his broom, zooming through the sky like a comet.

It would be the last peaceful sleep he had for a while.


End file.
